


The Angel

by Immortal_Redshirt



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU where Day of the Doctor never happened, Angst, Canon-concentric up to Under the Lake (s09e03), F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Tearjerker, Tragedy, Twelve!Whump, Whump!fic, clara!whump, doctor who - Freeform, lots of fluff, lots of plot twists, some gore, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 61,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4658832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immortal_Redshirt/pseuds/Immortal_Redshirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a heated argument leads to a terrible accident, Twelve finds that he must make the ultimate sacrifice for his Impossible Girl. Discoveries are made, life rekindled, and an unshakable bond becomes set in stone that not even death itself can shatter. (Twelve/Clara) (AU where Day of the Doctor never happened. Gallifrey was never saved.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Impossibles

Disclaimer: I do not Own Doctor Who or any of its characters. A few headcanons of mine will be present in this story that are not necessarily official canon. (This is an AU where the events of Day of the Doctor never happened. Gallifrey was never saved.)

 

The Angel

6-7-2015

 

Chapter 1: The Impossibles

 

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"The Thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing with your eyes again. Where it's like they're trying to show multiple emotions at once. It's confusing."

Clara threw up her hands in frustration and grumpily trudged forwards several steps ahead of the Doctor in the orangey-pink grass of their latest travel destination.

She had to admit that Aluereygo XI was a gorgeous planet. Several tall, hollow columns of stone jutted up from the ground at random angles and spewed out giant naturally-occurring iridescent bubbles into the atmosphere. The Doctor had some lengthy scientific explanation for this phenomenon about sub-terrestrial gases, but Clara had been too interested in their beauty and the orangey-pink plains ahead of them to listen.

At first she had been impressed with the Doctor for choosing a seemingly harmless destination for once, but that thought had been scattered once they discovered the invasive species of robotic bear-like creatures with tall bodies, long thin claws, and large flattened heads from a neighboring planet. After being captured and nearly made into lunch, the Doctor managed to free himself and Clara at the last possible moment- ending up accidentally killing all of their captors when the normal setting on his sonic was too much for the creatures to bear.

The duo narrowly escaped the ensuing explosions and were now trudging through endless plains with the Tardis nowhere in sight.

"Maybe my eyes wouldn't be doing the thing if you hadn't killed them all." She spat back after an eternity, kicking an orange rock out of her way.

"You did notice that they were trying to skewer us with their claws, and roast us with their digestive acids, Clara." he grumbled. He could never win.

When she didn't give him any kind of response, he rose his hands up in surrender, "Hey, I didn't know. Nothing has ever been harmed by that low a setting on the sonic before. I couldn't have possibly known." he grated out with a twinge of guilt.

When Clara didn't respond, he felt compelled to bring a hesitant hand to her shoulder to look her in the eye. "I really didn't know, Clara. I'm sorry."

Clara wrested out of his grip with a forceful tug. "Don't touch me, Doctor! I've had enough of you always lying to me! You always say, 'This planet is harmless. We are here purely for fun,' but we never are, Doctor! There's always some hidden agenda under everything!" she whirled away from him on her heel and stormed off.

He was surprised by her unexpected tirade and had to take a moment to come up with a response. "Well fine, Clara!" the Doctor sputtered after her angrily, "I guess saving countless lives across the universe everyday isn't your cup of tea, is it, Teach?" he seethed, jerking on his lapels and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"You didn't save any today, did you, Doctor? There's always collateral damage with you, and half the time it's me!" Clara yelled over her shoulder from her now-considerable distance from him. She crossed her arms indignantly and quickened her pace from him. She didn't know if this was the right way to the Tardis or not, she just wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

After the Dream Crabs, Santa, and the death of Danny, she thought that things between them would be different, but everything just boiled down to the same old routine of deception and tension.

"I can't take it anymore! Take me home, Doctor, and never come back! I am through with you and your ego!"

Taken aback by the viciousness of her tone, he matched it with his own storm of fury. "Fine, I don't need your nagging all the time, Clara! I'm better off without you pudding brains anyway!" he growled and stomped off, wondering why she exploded like that all of a sudden, even considering the circumstances.

Both needing time to cool off, he took off in the opposite direction at a brisk pace. He furrowed his eyebrows into a deep scowl. He didn't need her. All she had done this regeneration was hurt him. He saved her from Trenzalore and waited alone for death for a thousand years. He constantly regretted sending her away for the centuries to come, even though it would have been selfish to trap her there with him until she ultimately died and left him alone again.

He had surprised himself in how he had chosen her as a companion so quickly. At first he hoped that he hadn't judged her character incorrectly based on his first impression of her by her echoes. But when she convinced the stubborn Time Lords to give him more regenerations, he knew that he was right about her. She had always had his back for countless years, even from when he was a discouraged child sleeping alone in a barn because he thought he would never make a Time Lord. Even in his darkest hours, she was there.

The moment he began to regenerate was the moment he knew he loved her. He knew right than that he would do anything to return the favor to her. He owed her everything, and when he became his current self, he trusted her enough to lift his mask. He was willing to be vulnerable with her by choosing a face that more clearly resembled his true self. He knew what he was inside, and he believed that he wouldn't need to pretend to be a goofy young man anymore in order to be liked. He trusted her character so much that he believed she would still love him no matter what form he took.

He was raw and open to her, showing her a form closer to his true self than any other companion before her. She knew his name, she was intimately intertwined all throughout his life, so he gave her the truth.

But when he finished his regeneration and his new face first stared into her huge eyes, he discovered that they were full of fear. He instantly panicked and recoiled slightly. She wasn't supposed to look at him that way. That's not how he had planned it would work out. His hearts were shattered when she asked Jenny and Vastra how to change his face back; when she said she didn't know the Doctor anymore.

As the months went by, his thousand-year love for her never waned, but his hearts continued to shatter as she became cold and distant from him. Gone was the sassy young woman he had known, for she had changed too.

It was true that he didn't help matters much by being reclusive and unaffectionate unlike his previous incarnation, but that wasn't who he truly was. He was truly a broken, cynical old man, with only glimmers of love from his pudding brains to give him a reason to go on.

When she left him for Danny, and their adventures became far and few between, their relationship splintered until it snapped on the Moon when she claimed that she loved Danny Pink. When she wanted the Doctor to leave her forever. When she said she hated him. And now she wanted him to leave again. This time for good.

The Doctor was shaken out of his train of self-pity when he nearly stumbled over a small boulder hidden among the tall grass. He was grateful for the distraction and kicked the rock away. He could feel his anger leaving with it, replaced with an aching pit of sadness as it bounced away down a small hill. He sucked in a deep breath and buttoned his coat against the chilly wind. Temperatures on this planet were known to drop abruptly after its triple suns set.

He took one long gaze at the majestic sunset and gave in. He turned around and followed his footsteps back into the direction where Clara had gone.

If she truly left him this time, he didn't know if he could ever find another companion again. Once he lifted the mask, there was no going back. What sensible pudding brain would want a rude, grumpy, old alien around? He resolved that he would never find another one like her. As he climbed back up the hill to where they had first split nearly an hour ago, he straightened himself up and put on a neutral face, betraying his true feelings.

A sharp scream echoed faintly in the distance, and that was all it took for the Doctor to snap to attention.

"Clara!" His mind filled with dread, and he sprinted across the rough fields as fast as his knobby legs could carry him.


	2. The Impossible Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourself.

Chapter 2: The Impossible Loss

He continued to call her name desperately as the miles flew by, his coat having come unbuttoned at some point, flashing out the crimson underside.

His lungs burned against the dry freezing air, and his duo hearts thumped powerfully in his chest. For once, he was grateful for his ability to run faster than any human being, and for his respiratory bypass system, but most of all for the surge in fearful adrenaline his body provided. He had lost two of her echoes so easily before, he was not about to lose his original Clara too.

Finally, he spotted a large imposing figure in the distance which he immediately recognized as one of the robotic creatures. He swore between ragged breaths and felt his stomach turn in dread. He had been a fool to believe that he had killed all the creatures on the planet, but at the time he was just glad to 'escape from them now and think later.'

Once he was close enough, he could make out a struggling Clara in the creature's grasp. "Get away from her!" He screamed at the creature. The beast merely roared half-heartedly in his direction, and proceeded to stab her in the side with a long, thin claw. She let out a heartbreaking gurgle and that was all it took for the Doctor to snap.

"Clara! My Clara!" he rushed the creature, brandishing his sonic. "Leave her alone!"

The creature snarled and tossed Clara against a nearby column, an audible crack resonating clearly across the dimming skies. The beast reared itself up and let out a piercing shriek against its adversary.

The Doctor couldn't use his sonic on the creature just yet because Clara would be too close when it exploded. He charged straight up at the beast and kicked it squarely in the chest, a move he must have learned in a previous incarnation. It roared and swiped at him. A claw raked across his ribs and tore open his jacket.

"Ahh.." the Doctor grunted in pain and threw off his jacket onto the ground. He wasted no time in delivering a devastating punch to the creature's temple, causing it to stagger temporarily while he set his screwdriver to an even lower setting to stun the beast without causing it to explode. Once it was set, he stepped back and pressed the button.

The beast screamed in agony and lost its balance. The Doctor took advantage of this small amount of bought time and scooped Clara up from her crumpled position at the base of the column. He ran as fast as he could and set her back down gently in the grass a few hundred yards from the site before turning back to the creature.

The beast righted itself and shot a stream of burning acid from its gaping jaws onto the Doctor's shoulder. He yelped at the searing pain and threw off his torn shirt with the majority of the acid on it. Now standing shirtless in front of the robotic animal, he increased the setting on his sonic once more and pressed the button.

The creature cringed in a silent shriek and clutched at its temples. The Doctor darted away and threw himself over Clara. The creature exploded in a great bout of fire and shrapnel, and a loose piece of metal struck the Doctor across the shoulder blades.

When the blast had subsided into smoke and small pocket fires burning up the orangey-pink grass, he finally lifted himself off of her with a wince and a small moan of pain. Now with the firelight to illuminate her figure against the fading light, he finally got a good look at her.

"Oh, Clara." he choked out, the tears stinging against his eyes more than the gashes, acid, and bruises ever could.

She was limp and broken in his arms. He could tell by the way her makeup had streaked down her cheeks that she had been previously crying. A large hole was punched clear through her side where she had been stabbed and blood gushed copiously from the wound. More blood leaked from a gash on the side of her head that he couldn't clearly see due to the amount of the scarlet liquid. As he continued to examine her condition, he had to fight to keep back a shuddering sob from wracking his body. "Oh, my Clara. Clara. Clara."

One leg was obviously broken at the femur with a large blackened area, and the other had welts from where droplets of the creature's acidic spittle had landed in its attack. Her pulse was thready and weak, and by the way she was breathing, he could tell that several ribs were broken. He let a few tears slip from his reddened eyes and stream down his craggy face.

He was all too grateful for her unconsciousness as he ripped off the corroded part of his thin button-down shirt and packed the remaining cloth into the stab wound with wadded up handfuls of the soft grass in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. He gingerly wrapped her in his torn jacket that had escaped the acid to shield her from the biting cold. He carefully scooped her into his arms against his bare chest. He tried to ignore how her blood stained the crimson interior of the jacket a darker shade.

Her elbow jabbed sharply into his gash, but he didn't care. "I was a fool, Clara. We should have gotten off this planet as soon as we were able. This is all my fault." A few more tears escaped his stormy blue eyes and he pressed a tiny kiss to the uninjured part of her pale forehead.

He pulled out the Tardis key from the jacket pocket and pressed the key tightly, willing the Tardis to lead him to her. The key glowed slightly, and he immediately felt his faithful ship's telepathic presence in the back of his mind flare up with worry. He felt a tugging need to go south, knowing it was the Tardis leading him the way in the frigid night.

He clutched Clara closer to his chest and sprinted south faster than he had ever run before, even in his previous incarnations.

"Please hold on, Clara. Don't let go. You haven't properly finished telling me off yet. You have a job to do, Teach. Come on, little pudding brain, use that stubborn will of yours and fight."

He leapt over boulders, weaved around columns, and burst through thick, partially frozen bubbles of the iridescent gas now a dark fractured color with the darkness of the night and the eerie glow of the single moon illuminating the cracks in the filmy ice.

Finally, the key became hot in his hand and the Tardis materialized into view. He sobbed a choked sound of relief. Even his Time Lord legs were not without their limits, and even with his ability to regulate his body temperature, the combination of being shirtless and losing blood was doing a number on him.

He felt Clara squirm weakly in his arms. She immediately released a moan of pain. Her breath came in short labored bursts, and she huddled closer into his warmth. Shivering violently, Clara pressed her ear into his chest so she could hear the comforting steady thud of his twin hearts. "Doctor?" she croaked out.

He gazed down at her glassy eyes looking up at him. "Just hang on, Clara."

She stared right through him and trembled, losing a few tears to mingle with their blood. "Am I going to die, Doctor?" she asked without a trace of nonsense in her voice. She wanted the truth.

The Doctor blasted through the Tardis doors and slammed them behind him. Usually the Tardis would protest at this, but given the circumstances, she merely let out a worried chirp and moved the sickbay to the first room in the hallway. Both the Doctor and Clara could feel her soothing presence in the back of their minds, linking them and easing their pain.

The Doctor ran into the sickbay, gingerly set Clara down onto the nearest bed, and immediately began hooking up various alien medicines to her. He removed her shirt and his makeshift bandages to better access the injuries. Oh God, she was so pale. The Tardis made sure to place all he needed on the table beside him for quick access. He plugged in blood bags, morphine, and antiseptics in short order. She hissed when he tightly wrapped bandages around her head.

"Doctor." she gasped, "you haven't answered my question." She grasped his bloodied hand and interlaced their fingers. He looked down at his hand and swallowed thickly. Turning his face so she could see the soundless tears now flowing unashamed down his stern face. Realizing he might frighten her with that look, he put on a soft gaze reserved for emergencies only. He had to be strong for her.

She was the one dying, after all.

"I don't know." He forced out quickly.

She released his hand with a faint squeeze and relaxed into her pillow.

He continued to press firmly at the stab wound with a pile of sterile bandages, but the bleeding would not stop. The new blood he was giving her, his own in fact, which he had stored in the Tardis for emergencies, compatible with all types of human blood, was rushing out of her faster than it was going in.

The room was filled with silence save for the soft warbling of the Tardis around them. He prayed to every deity he knew that the bleeding would stop. He needed her. He needed his Clara. He could feel her mind screaming in agony, clawing at him like a drowning person, while her face remained blank.

She was slipping away. He could sense every moment of her demise has if it were his own. He knew what death felt like better than anyone, and this was the verge of it. The Tardis sensed it too and the room darkened for the pair to be only bathed in the soft yellow glow of the surgical light above Clara's bed. He cursed himself, he cursed everything. He was going to lose her. He had pledged to keep his little pudding brain safe, and he had failed her.

"Doctor?" she reached out for him. She found his face through her blurring vision and tangled her hand in his unruly silver curls, enjoying their softness.

He continued to apply pressure with one hand, but used the other to clasp her free one. "I'm here." he choked out. Stay with me, Clara. I'm sorry for what I said, what I did. You never deserved that. I owe you everything." he felt his own injuries beginning to take their toll on him, but he ignored them. "I owe you everything, Clara. My Clara."

Her heart monitor's beeping which he usually found obnoxious, was comforting in its every beep, becoming rarer. Clara smiled up at him, giving his hair a playful tug. "You don't need to fuss over me anymore," she wheezed, "I feel fine now."

The Doctor brought his face to their hands where they were joined and kissed her knuckles, his silent tears getting between their hands. "Oh my Impossible Girl, don't go."

She shuddered. Her hand fell from his hair. The hand in his became lax and listless. She closed her eyes and made a pondering face as if recalling a fond memory.

"Run." she whispered, "Run you clever old man." She turned her face and barely opened her once wide eyes, "and remember me."

Her eyes slipped shut one last time. The heart monitor wailed, the Tardis darkened, the Doctor cried...

And there was that confusing smile again. Her grace unmarred even in death. That smile he once loved that conveyed happiness and sadness all at once lit up her face even in the cold darkness of the room. The Doctor released his hold on her side and fell to his knees.

Clara Oswald was gone.


	3. The Impossible Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about not warning about the major character death in the last chapter. It would have been too big of a spoiler. :(

Chapter 3: The Impossible Choice

The Doctor stayed by her side for an unknown amount of time. He could feel the embrace of his ship's mind attempting to soothe his aguish. He had lost Clara again. He would find her again someday. When she scattered across his timeline, she was present in his future as well.

But his Clara was the original. Any others would just be hollow echoes of the incredible woman he once called the Impossible Girl.

He eventually pulled himself up from the cold metal floor, careful to not reopen the gash on his ribs that had finally scabbed over successfully. He dressed himself and her in clean clothes and turned off the wailing heart monitor whose single somber note had echoed throughout all the corridors of the Tardis for possibly hours.

He hung his head in exhaustion and guilt. All of his Time Lord adrenaline from earlier had deserted him, and he felt every bruise, every patch of acid-burnt skin, every pulled muscle, and every laceration, but nothing hurt more than the ache in his hearts for the first face this face saw.

It was all his fault. He should have never left her alone on an unsafe planet like that. Why had he been so stubborn? Why couldn't he have just apologized?

Because she was right. He had lied to her about his true intentions multiple times. The most prominent lie was when he claimed that they were going on the Orient Express purely for a relaxing last hurrah, when he really only took her there to follow a wild hunch and nearly got everyone killed in the process. Of course, she had had her fair share of deceptions to him as well.

But none of that mattered now. Everything she ever did to him, every hurt, every slap, faded away from his memory. What was the point in holding a grudge against the dead? He only wished he had one more moment with her, to explain everything. To tell her how he was truly enamored with her and could never imagine losing her.

But there was no point now.

He respectfully cleaned her of the gore and lifted a clean sheet over her face. To him, the action felt like closing a chapter of his life. This women who had been saving and protecting him for over 2000 years was suddenly gone. She had saved him so many times, and when it became his turn to save her, he failed her.

He slumped into a nearby uncomfortable chair and pressed his face into his hands. "I could have done more. I could have done more."

The Doctor suddenly shot his head up. "I still can!" He gasped at a small glimmer of hope before it vanished and his eyes darkened.

The Tardis must have picked up on his idea because she immediately whirred in disapproval and tugged at his mind.

"Yes. Like River did to me, so many years ago." He let out a short disbelieving laugh. "I can do that. I owe her that much."

He immediately felt the Tardis trying to kick some sense into his mind. 'It will kill you, my Thief.'

'I can pour all my remaining regenerations into her. It worked on me when River did it. It will work on her too!' he excitedly countered.

'You don't know how many regenerations you have left. You cannot just cheat life and death. You would know better than anyone.'

'And why not?' he hissed in his mind, 'I've done it hundreds of times.'

'This is a fixed point. I have known for ages. You cannot just bring life. There must always be an exchange. That would mean you, my thief. You will not be able to remain alive afterwards like River could. You don't have any reserves left. You will die if you save her. I will not help you commit suicide. Let her go.'

"Shut up." he growled aloud. "The universe doesn't need me anymore, nobody needs this old doctor around anymore. She's right, I no longer save people; people are usually just lucky to survive when they're stuck with me. I am not a doctor, I am an executioner."

He gazed down onto her covered form, to the lake of their blood on the ground, to the droplets of acid from his desperate run burning through the metal floor. "Let me save one last life."

'No.' the Tardis practically snapped in his mind.

"But she needs me. She has saved my life so many times and in so many ways. She is the one who made me who I am." he clasped her prone hand from under the sheet. "She needs me now, and I am here."

'This isn't time for stupid heroics, Thief, this is your life, and potentially those of millions of others who wait for you to save them in the future. If you save her, you are damning them.'

"Try to argue with a time machine." he muttered under his breath. He stood up and erected blockades in his mind to prevent the Tardis from trying to convince him further. His mind was made up. She warbled angrily and he could feel her scrabbling desperately at the blockades.

"Oh Clara, my Clara." he turned to the wall and punched in codes to program the Tardis to take her home. He recorded a quick Emergency Protocol message, and turned back to her.

He uncovered her face and clasped her cold hand with both of his warm ones. "You Impossible Pudding Brain. All the trouble I go through for you," he spoke, knowing that she would never remember this conversation, "it has been an honor and a privilege to show you the stars." his voice cracked slightly, "I only wish there was time for a few more adventures."

He leaned down to hesitantly kiss her forehead softly and brush stray locks of hair from her face. "If you ever remember this conversation, you'll laugh at me." He chuckled sadly. "Look at me. Being a softie. I'm supposed to be all grumpy, unaffectionate, and eyebrows. Heartless."

He gathered her into his arms, a single tear rolling down his cheek. "But you will find that I am not heartless at all. In fact, I have two."

He sighed dejectedly, "The universe doesn't need this old doctor anymore. I've lived a long life, and I have seen many things. I have died many times, so what is one more time? Let me save you, Clara." he pressed his forehead to hers, a few tears tracking their way down his face.

"The universe doesn't need this broken old meddler anymore, it needs you." his Scottish burr dropped an octave.

Without another word he channeled up every energy reserve he could find in himself, took her in a full-body embrace, and pressed his lips to hers. Hot golden energy spewed from his body and twined beautifully across the room, lighting up the previously darkened space.

The tendrils whirled around their tangled bodies and curled into her wounds, her broken bones, her bruises, and her heart. The sparkling life force pushed into her cold form, reigniting her soul with his. Her soul flickered and drank him in as he tied himself in knots round and round her spirit until she stirred.

Clara Oswald felt herself being wrapped in the closest embrace in her very soul. Was it Danny? No, Danny was dead, she reasoned. It couldn't be the Doctor, he hated hugging.

She wriggled slightly and she opened her eyes to complete darkness and a beautiful, somehow familiar, golden shimmer of light attempting to coax her from what felt like the deepest sleep she had ever had.

At her stirring, the shimmer glowed excitedly and danced in her blurred vision. "Buck up. You can do it." It seemed to say.

She reached for the light, but it nimbly darted just out of her reach. She followed it through the darkness. The dark was so thick; getting through it felt like walking across the bottom of a pool of honey. The light seemed to extend itself to her like an offered hand. She reached for the light again and caught it. It wrapped itself over her like a vine and lifted her out of the murky dark. It felt like resurfacing from the bottom of a lake, and her lungs burned for air.

Her chocolate-brown eyes peeked open the slightest bit, squinting against the golden light show outside.

The Doctor felt her skin become warm and glow beneath his fingertips. He could feel himself becoming weaker and smaller, pouring all he had into her. He saw her eyes open and released her lips. She gasped and arched her back as all the energy in the room was sucked into her mouth and filled her body. The light scattered everywhere and she could feel her injuries disappearing at their will.

The the last bits of energy poured from the Doctor's fingertips, eyes, and mouth, until finally he was empty. All that he ever was, all that he is, all that he ever would be, was hers now.

When the lights finally dimmed and disappeared, Clara found herself gasping for air. After a few lungfuls, she shot her eyes open. She had just had the strangest dream. "Doctor?" she called.

Her eyes widened in realization once she realized what had just happened. "Doctor!" He laid sprawled out over her, his head resting on her shoulder, his body proving to be much lighter than it probably should. He shifted slightly and gazed up at her with bleary eyes.

"It worked." He managed a slight smile. The very last of the great Time Lords had put his long life to good use, and now, finally, he and his species could truly rest. He cupped her face weakly and crawled off of her, losing his balance and clambering to the floor in a disheveled heap.

Clara, feeling stronger than ever immediately dove out of the bed. "Doctor. You did not just do what I think you did."

He poked his head out from beneath his arms. "Sometimes," he began, taking her hand in his limply, "the only choices we have are bad ones-"

"Oh, no you don't." she cut him off. "You can't do this to me."

"-But we still have to choose." he struggled out. Clara held him softly in her arms and for once he did not protest. His gash had been reopened by his fall off the bed, and now she was slowly becoming soaked in blood again.

"You...kissed me, didn't you?"

"Oh wow, he rolled his eyes. Let's get our priorities straight, Clara." he scoffed.

"You..." she started, choking on tears, "you sacrificed your life...for me? After all I've done to you?

"Yes." he panted, "Yes, I did. The universe had had quite enough of this old man in the blue box meddling around for 2000 years." He let out a forced disjointed laugh.

"Will you regenerate?" Clara was sobbing and rocking him in her arms. "Please tell me you'll regenerate."

"Well," he snorted half-heartedly, "saying that the universe has had enough of me kind of implied that. No, I will not regenerate. Not this time."

"You should see your eyes right now," he gestured to her comically wide eyes, "I've never seen them inflate this much before. It's quite impressive, actually." He shuddered out just as his own eyelids began to slip.

"Oh no you don't!" Clara shouted, slapping his cheek firmly, "you can't just leave me alone!"

The annoyed exclamation of surprise that usually resulted whenever she slapped him for bad behavior never came. The blood bubbling from his gash slowed to a trickle and halted. Clara clutched his body to hers with all her newfound strength and sobbed. Usually, his whole body vibrated softly by the power of the twin beats of his hearts, but now even those tiny hums of life were absent.

The stillness of the room was eerie, and for the first time in centuries, the Tardis was completely silent. It was as if the entire universe had held its breath all at once, with Clara's broken sobs the only sounds left in existence.

The last child of Gallifrey was no more. The Time Lords were extinct.

And the Doctor was gone.


	4. The Angel

Chapter 4: The Angel

A/N: I'm just writing this story as I go; if anyone has any good ideas about what you would like to happen, please PM me and I'll look over it. Please Review! I will try to update every three days at the latest! :)

Clara sobbed and sobbed until she couldn't physically produce any more tears. She rested the Doctor's head in her lap and squeezed his hand so hard she was sure it would have hurt had he been alive.

She had always supposed that the Doctor would die saving the universe, or something else of vast importance, not a fragile little human like herself that would be gone in a blink of the eye of eternity. She felt guilty and selfish. How many others in the future were counting on his help that now will never come? How many futures have been changed? How many lives will now never exist?

"You idiot." she punched him lightly. "You wonderful, stupid idiot. It was my fault anyway. You were just trying to keep us safe, and I had to blow up on you like that." she sobbed into the hollow of his neck. "This would have never happened if I hadn't been so selfish."

She nestled herself in his arms and cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, she awoke in her Tardis bedroom. Somehow, she had slept so peacefully throughout the night that for one oblivious moment, she almost forgot what had happened the day before.

"Doctor!" She shot up in bed, dazed and confused. Had this all been one terrible dream from the Dream Crabs? Everything came crashing back to her with a start, and the hole that was torn open in her heart ached for the Time Lord. She let out a whimper and attempted to burrow back into the warm blankets for comfort.

Suddenly, the Doctor shimmered into life. He stood wisely at the foot of her bed with an ancient smile on his well-worn face.

"Doctor!" Clara gasped. She hesitantly reached forwards to touch him. "Please, Doctor."

Her hands met only air.

"Hard light hologram, I'm afraid," the Doctor answered her unspoken question.

"No." Clara choked out.

"If you can see this message, that means that I am dead. Expired. Gone!" He gestured wildly, "By now, the Tardis has materialized my body to God-knows-where, and has materialized you into your bed, sorry for the rude awakening, by the way."

The holo-Doctor chuckled briefly and continued, "You've finally gotten rid of me. No more appearing in your bedroom at two in the morning to bother you about fish people, no more ruining your dates, no more of the space drama that I drag you into."

"Oh, Doctor." Clara's whole body was wracked with violent sobs. "I didn't mind any of that." Refusing to believe her hands, she never stopped reaching out for him, meeting thin air every time.

"So do one last thing for me, Teach," the hologram smiled faintly, "Have a good life. Go canoodle with some new boyfriend or something. The Tardis has been programmed to take you home. Lock her up and throw away the keys. Just let her become some odd thing in an alley that everyone walks by. In time, you pudding brains will move on, and the box will be buried."

"Basically, just forget about the stupid old man in the blue box," he grinned.

The hologram took a step forward and peered at her with such a warm gaze that it immediately struck her as strange to see such a look on the face she was so used to seeing in a permanent scowl.

"You were wonderful, Clara. It has been my honor to babysit the Earth, my adopted home. I walked your Earth, I breathed your air. Thank you for sharing it with a grumpy old alien like me. I have always enjoyed our adventures together, Clara. From the moment I dragged you from the wifi-creatures and into my snog box, I knew you would be special."

"So get on with your life, my Clara. Become a queen with your 'infinite knowledge of the future', or something," the hologram echoed. The image began to glitch and faded slightly from view.

"No, no, no! Don't go! How can I give up this? Tell me what to do, Doctor!" Clara begged the hologram.

The fading hologram found her hand and gripped it tightly. Clara gasped and immediately fell silent. The hand in hers was warm, vibrating, and real. The holo-Doctor gave her one final squeeze.

"Goodbye, Clara."

In an instant, the image flickered and faded from existence. The hand covering hers vanished. Nothing remained to prove that the hologram was ever there, save for the tingling warmth it left behind.

Clara broke and curled into herself, her body long unable to create more tears. She huddled against her comforter and held on for dear life. "Oh, Doctor." she whispered. Even with the death of Danny and her own mother, she had never experienced such a crippling grief as this.

The next day, Clara finally managed to make herself take a shower and freshened up her puffed up face.

"If he was impressed with my eyes, he should see my face right now." she chuckled sadly to herself, "Recently, It's been so puffed up and inflated. It's becoming ridiculous."

It was another several days before Clara finally packed her things and left the Tardis. She patted the console lovingly and sighed. "Well, old girl, I guess it's goodbye. I know you never have really liked me, and that's understandable. I really gave him hell, didn't I?"

The lights pulsated dimly and the ship let out a low warble in agreement.

"Oi, don't be like that. I'm trying to end this on a nice note. Thank you for materializing me in my bedroom that night. Thank you for all the adventures." she gave the beloved ship one last affectionate stroke and exited into the dark London alleyway just behind her apartment complex.

The air was bitingly cold and she immediately wished that she had nicked one of the Doctor's hoodies. "Blimey," she shivered. Luckily, her apartment was only on the third floor so it wasn't too far of a walk.

She strode off on her way, never a moment going by where she didn't think of the adventures she had with her beloved Doctor.

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Weeks passed. Eventually, Clara returned to her job as an English teacher at Coal Hill. Autumn was coming to a close, and it was almost time for her students to leave on their Christmas break.

She couldn't wait for the break. These past few weeks had been the hardest days of her life. For once, she had nothing else to look forward to. No upcoming dates with Danny, no possibility of the Doctor materializing in the school closet to take her to some exiting new planet, and no family in town.

"Looks like it's just you and me for Christmas, old girl." Clara rubbed the painted wood of the Tardis fondly. As she had been doing for weeks, every day she wrapped herself up in an oversized coat, pulled up a chair, and graded her papers beside the ancient time machine.

She told the old ship about her daily adventures: how the students were doing, how the day went, and what it was like to walk past Danny's math class in the hall every day and see a new man standing there- continuing the lessons as if nothing had ever happened. Telling that story, she chuckled sadly. "Talk about déjà vu." she had muttered.

Today, Clara rounded the bend to her secluded alley with a stack of semester exam reviews in her arms, of which she could barely see over. Leaves and small flurries of snow whirled softly around her feet as if clearing a path for her and her huge stack.

The Tardis stood there, as striking and impassive as ever, now covered in a thin layer of snow. The windows were frosted over, and the lock was frozen shut. Though Clara still hadn't thrown away the keys, and she was sure that the Tardis would let her in anyways at the snap of her fingers, she never attempted to reenter the familiar old machine.

It was probably much warmer in there, with better surfaces to grade papers on than her lap, but Clara was content to sit outside and watch the leaves dancing among the snowflakes. She smiled sadly and leaned her head back against the wood paneling of the ship. She took in a deep breath and sighed.

"It sure is quiet without him around, isn't it?"

The Tardis made no response, but Clara could feel her somber agreement in the back of her mind. Since her revival, she had been able to telepathically communicate with the Tardis much easier than before. Sometimes, she could even hold short conversations with the Tardis if she concentrated hard enough.

Every once in a while, she could even pick up some of the thoughts and emotions of her students, especially if they came too close to her. A perk was that she always knew when someone needed help or was cheating, but all the chatter in her head was driving her insane.

For the first few days back on the job, she had gotten complaints about being too cranky with the students, but after what she had been through, and with the constant buzzing in her mind, she chose to ignore the complaints. Once she figured out how to erect barriers to cut out most of the chatter, her mood improved and the complaints disappeared.

Clara continued to grade papers well into the evening, occasionally sipping hot tea from the thermos she brought. Usually these kinds of temperatures would drive her indoors, but lately the weather hadn't bothered her as much as it used to.

"Maybe I picked up some of his traits, eh?" she asked the Tardis. "No wonder I've been so grumpy."

The day turned into night. The snow had stopped a while ago, but the wind was ripping through the alley viciously. The Tardis had turned on her top light for Clara to see, but after nearly losing more than a few papers to the wind, Clara finally stood up to leave.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow." She packed her things and waved to the box. She giggled to herself, "I'd better stay away from any normal human beings." She let out a laugh, "How must I look right now to everyone else. Once they find out what I've been doing, they'll think I'd finally lost it. They'd lock me up for talking to a phone box all day."

Suddenly, a rough looking man blasted into her alley. Clara's laugh died in the wind and her eyes widened in shock. He wore chains and leather, and upon closer inspection, seemed to also be carrying a gun in his gloved fist.

He skidded to a halt in front of her and brandished the handgun from his jacket. "Gimme your purse! Hurry up!" he snarled.

Clara whimpered, staring down the nose of the gun inches from her face. She'd had a gun pointed to her face many times before while traveling with the Doctor, but she always had him to protect her. Somehow, she was never afraid with him because she always knew he would have her back.

Not knowing what else to do, she dropped the papers and held her hands up in surrender. "I...I don't have my purse with me. This is just my teacher's bag. All it has are pencils and papers in it." she couldn't keep the tremble out of her voice.

"Don't you dare lie to me!" the thug pressed the cold tip of the gun into her temple. "Give me the bag! Now!"

She handed him the bag, "Please don't hurt me. I'm just trying to get home."

He emptied the contents of the bag. Pens, pencils, and random pieces of paper flurried out into the wind to scatter down the alley with the rest of the reviews. "This is rubbish!"

"I told you," she muttered under her breath.

"What did you say to me!?" He charged her suddenly, pressing the gun harder to the side of her head and cocking the weapon.

"I'll get what I want one way or another!" he growled. His foul breath frosted in the freezing air and covered her face. He was so close to her, she could have touched his course beard had she moved her face at all. She swallowed thickly, no longer able to speak.

_'He's going to kill me._ ' she realized with a sinking pit of anxiety.

She squeezed her eyes shut and prepared for the blast that would end her life. She straightened up, ready to take it. Death didn't sound too bad at the moment. It would be an escape from this hell, she reasoned. She tightened her grip on the bricks of the building behind her and held her breath.

But nothing ever came.

She could no longer hear or smell his panting breath anymore. She no longer sensed his angry presence in her mind, however, the Tardis seemed to be excited about something. Without letting her guard down, she peeked an eye open.

She screamed in horror.

There, standing mere inches from her, was a Weeping Angel. It had its face covered with its hands. A metallic taste lingered in the air where the thug had no doubt been transported to another time and space. She wondered briefly why the angel didn't attack her while her eyes were closed, but none of that mattered now.

She poured all her concentration into slowly backing away while never taking her eyes off the angel and never blinking. Her eyes stung against the dry freezing wind. She continued to back up slowly in silent horror from the alley and across the adjacent street. "Please, God, don't let me die again. I just got back." she panted out, slightly hyperventilating, "Oh, Doctor, where are you when I need you?"

A large truck she didn't see coming lumbered by in the street in front of her, obstructing her view of the angel.

Everything went dark.


	5. Inferno

Chapter 5: Inferno

Surrounded in complete darkness, Clara shot up with a start. She panicked briefly and quickly inspected herself by touch for any obvious injuries.

"Am I dead?"

The fuzziness in her brain cleared and she began to notice a warmth surrounding her- something soft. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she was able to make out the dying embers of a fire.

Instinctively reaching out for a lamp that she somehow knew was there, she found the switch and the room was bathed in a warm yellow light.

It was her living room. She was comfortably bundled up in the armchair the Doctor insisted she had for her living room last month. At least four blankets had her wrapped up like a little Clara-burrito.

She impulsively snuggled into their warmth again. "Well, if I'm dead, this isn't too bad." she reasoned.

She glanced by the fireplace again and noticed all of her papers stacked neatly in a corner along with her teacher's bag and thermos. She squinted in disbelief.

Cautiously, Clara untangled herself from her burrito of blankets and pulled open the curtains of the window. It looked to be early night, judging by the position of the moon. She turned on her TV to the news channel, and sure enough, it read 16 December, 2015, 9:30 PM.

Clara switched off the TV. "I'm only one hour from where I was. And somehow, I ended up in my living room snuggled up all warm and cozy to the fire." she shrugged, "That has to be the most considerate Weeping Angel I've ever met."

The next morning, Clara tried finding the man who almost killed her on the Internet. Even with her "insane computer skills" left over by the wifi creatures, she could not find him anywhere. As far as the Internet was concerned, he had been wiped from existence.

Clara began to feel a bit sorry for him, but quickly shrugged it off. "He deserved it. One less thing for me to worry about," she decided.

She finished up the last bit of her grading and walked out the door to begin the long day of school ahead.

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One year later...

Clara continued to stay by the Tardis's side through every season. In rain, in snow, in blistering heat, she was there. She was the gossip stock of the apartment complex, but hardly anyone actually bothered her about her daily stops in the alley.

Throughout the year, Clara found herself getting into minor situations that could have been disastrous had someone not intervened.

It was the Angel. The Angel was always there at the last second.

Once, she attempted to cross the street while distracted with something on her mind. A large milk truck came barreling out right in front of her which she didn't notice until it was nearly too late.

The world blacked out, and she woke up on the opposite side of the street, safe and sound. She caught a glimpse of the Angel and reached for it, but it was gone in the blink of an eye.

Another time, she accidentally took the wrong medication for a headache and overdosed on some other medicine. All she could remember from that incident was being rushed to the hospital, sicker than she had ever been in her life. She vaguely recalled a statue appearing by her bedside.

Clara woke up on her bathroom floor, two hours before. She shook it off, believing what had just happened was merely some strange dream. She still had that headache, so she reached for the wrong bottle. At the last minute, she stopped, as if experiencing a strong déjà vu.

She reached for the correct bottle and took those pills instead, effectively erasing that future from existence.

Just a few days from Christmas break, the anniversary of the Doctor's death, Clara returned to the Tardis, as always. She laid a large bouquet of flowers at the base of the wooden doors. She couldn't resist a sad smile, knowing the Doctor would have hated them had he been around. He would have probably made a comment about the colors being too flamboyant, or Clara being to sappy or something.

The once bright blue paint of the Tardis had chipped, been chewed on by animals, and was now covered in such a fine layer of grime that the Tardis looked like the phone box equivalent of a haunted house. A window had been smashed in a hailstorm earlier that year, and the light on top now barely flickered to greet Clara whenever she rounded the bend to the alley.

Without a word, Clara simply sat down on the stool she left there and graded as she usually did.

She could feel the Tardis always there in the back of her mind, a somber brooding presence. Even without her new telepathic abilities, she still would have be able to tell that the Tardis was in great distress. Clara could sometimes hear her crying faintly in her mind, calling for her lost thief. And sometimes, Clara would cry too.

Not a day went by where she didn't feel pangs of guilt for her best friend. New scenarios of what could have been popped into her head every day. All the new adventures they could have been having all this time that now will never exist. The Tardis was suffering because of her, and the rest of the universe too. All who had been patiently waiting on the Doctor for help had now waited in vain.

Maybe that's why the Tardis had never liked her in the beginning, maybe the ancient time machine always knew.

Clara, the impossible girl, born to save the Doctor, had ultimately been the one to finally kill him.

These thoughts festered in her mind every moment, becoming her identity. She was straining against herself, nearly at the breaking point. She told herself that she was a strong woman who could take care of herself, so she never sought out help- save for the comforting presence of the Tardis.

But she was dying inside.

The next few days passed at a snail's pace, but eventually ended. Christmas break began, and to Clara, it couldn't have come sooner.

Today was Christmas Day. A few carolers had knocked by a few times throughout the day, but other than that, she had the apartment to herself.

She read all her Christmas cards from family members who couldn't make it in for the holidays, and reminisced for the good old days when Christmas Day could be spent trying to cook a turkey in the time winds of the Tardis, or by having your brains sucked out by Dream-inducing crab monsters.

Things were much simpler then. Now that she was alone to do what she wished with the holidays, she found that she couldn't come up with anything to do other than watch Netflix and eat frozen comfort foods.

She had just finished grading all her students' final exams when it began to snow in a torrent.

"Just what I need." she grinned, staring out the window. "A good excuse to pop in a pizza and curl up to some Netflix."

Clara hopped up, producing a frozen pizza from her stocked up fridge- just in case she couldn't leave the place for a few days due to the weather.

She popped the pizza in the oven, accidentally knocking over a glass bottle of oil with her elbow. "Whoops," she darted out and caught it just before it could shatter on the hard floor, "That would have been a nasty fall."

She didn't notice that the bottle had managed to knock one of the burners of her gas stove on to full blast.

She closed the door of the kitchen and dove into her armchair. She selected her program and snuggled down for a good hour-and-a-half long episode of Sherlock.

As the show progressed, Clara found herself completely engrossed in what was happening onscreen, totally oblivious that in the kitchen, natural gas was gushing from her stove. The rogue burner was filling up the kitchen, bedrooms, and the front and back door areas with high volumes of the combustible gas.

Finally taking notice to the sulfuric smell, Clara took in a deep sniff. Since she closed the door to the kitchen, no gas had really come her way enough for her to detect it.

'Do I smell gas?" She took in another deep sniff and was about to get up to investigate. 'I must have turned on the stove somehow,' she thought to herself.

A loud sudden boom shook the entire apartment complex once the gas found one of her lighted Christmas candles and ignited all at once. The kitchen exploded into a huge ball of fire and blasted the heavy-made door partially from its hinges.

Clara screamed in surprise, but could not hear herself. The volume of the blast left her with only a shrill ringing in her ears. Tongues of fire came crawling up from behind the blasted door, crackling up the wall, burning up pictures, and finally reached the ceiling.

The fire fanned out against the ceiling and licked hungrily across the room. Sparks of electricity flew in bursts when the light fixtures soldered together in the intense heat.

Clara leaped up immediately. Her heart hammered in her chest uncontrollably as she scrabbled around the room desperately for an exit. The rest of her apartment was on the other side of the kitchen, including all the doors in and out. The living room itself only had windows peering out to a three-story drop onto icy pavement.

Fire now surrounded Clara on all sides. All her exits were blocked off. "Help!" She cried out desperately, "Somebody help me!"

She frugally tried to unlock the window, but it was jammed shut. "Come on! Dammit!" she yelled.

By now, some of her hearing had returned and she could hear the blaring fire alarm and the rest of the people hurrying and screaming out of the complex. Her ceiling creaked menacingly. "No! No! No! No! Don't you dare fall on me!"

The fire crept closer and closer to her helpless form. Even while crouching, the smoke began to make her woozy. She gasped for fresh air as soot coated her lungs. She could feel herself beginning to lose consciousness. She collapsed onto the carpet and waited for unconsciousness.

"At least I won't be able to feel it if I'm unconscious." she rasped out.

The fire advanced closer, the heat became unbearable, and just in the corner of Clara's swimming vision she thought she caught a flash of grey.

She lost consciousness. The fire reached its destination, burning up everything in its path. Christmas ornaments exploded from the heat, windows melted, the tree ignited quickly and joined the blinding blaze.

The ceiling collapsed, and the other rooms of the complex came tumbling down onto Clara's.

Clara never felt a thing.

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A/N: Please review! This is my first story on ff ever, and every little comment means so much to me! Please feel free to add criticism and ideas as either a pm or in the reviews section. I would not still be writing this story if it hadn't been for you guys' encouragement! Please review! :D


	6. The Guardian

Chapter 6: The Guardian

A sharp light pierced through Clara's eyelids. She felt weightless, as if all the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She moaned slightly and winced in pain.

She felt around. She was on some kind of surface that was refreshingly cool. She couldn't immediately remember why, but she felt like she was just in a sauna.

She cracked open an eye, squinting against the light. She clambered to her feet and woozily righted herself.

"What."

She was in her kitchen. A frozen pizza sat on the counter, waiting to be put into the oven. Christmas music played faintly in the distance and an obvious realization suddenly smacked her in the face.

"The Angel got me again. I don't know how and I don't know why, but it seems to be intent on keeping me out of danger." she wondered aloud.

She glanced at the clock. 7:05pm. The exact time when she had decided to pop in a pizza and watch a show for the evening.

She studied her blackened hands. Her entire body was covered in soot and ash. She had to spend a few minutes hacking out soot and debris from her lungs, but she was otherwise fine. Somehow, she had escaped without even getting blisters.

"So...it sent me back to the moment it happened? But what happened, anyway?" She pondered this thought and attempted to clean herself up with a kitchen towel.

She popped in the pizza and accidentally knocked over an oil bottle, catching it deftly before it could shatter on the tile floor.

"Whoops, that would have been a nasty fall."

She turned to exit the room when she heard a faint hissing sound.

She heard a quiet, almost inaudible voice in a buried corner of her subconscious. 'Turn around,' it said, 'Listen.'

Clara turned warily, noticing the stove.

"Oh," she remarked, turning off the burner, "that would be the cause."

She silently thanked the Angel for saving her life once again and exited the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn. As far as Clara was concerned, it was impossible to enjoy a good show without popcorn.

She entered the living room and dropped the bowl. The glass met the floor and shattered into a million pieces. Shards and popcorn scattered everywhere across her floor.

Standing in her living room, it's hands covering its face as if in shame, was the Weeping Angel.

"You. It's you. You're the Angel. You're here," she gasped out, making sure not to blink so it couldn't escape. "You have been watching over me for the past year. You've saved my life half a dozen times by now. Why?"

Feeling bolder, she took a step forward. "Who are you?"

'Blink,' she heard the strangled voice whisper, 'Just blink. Trust me.'

Clara gulped and felt a sudden chill run down her back. What if this was all just some elaborate game the Angel was playing on her? Was it "playing with its food?" What if all it would do was touch her, send her back to the Stone Age, and feed off her abundant time energy. She probably had a lot of that, being a Time Traveler.

But it had saved her life multiple times now.

She sucked in a deep breath, braced herself. And blinked.

A quiet rustling sound filled the room and she could feel someone right in front of her. She could hear low, panting breathing, as if strangled by something.

Goosebumps rose on her skin. She kept her eyes squeezed shut and her body tense, preparing for the worst.

A soft, warm hand clasped hers gently. It felt along her hand slowly, as if trying to recall the feel of delicate skin. The large hand in hers vibrated softly with faint flickering beats.

Red, orange, and yellow tendrils suddenly fired up to life in her mind. They had cocooned themselves in a forgotten space in her subconscious for a year, glowing softly, waiting for their chance to shine. They awoke and wrapped themselves around her soul, caressing her, whispering to her. Overwhelming Love and joy poured into her all at once, and she felt herself nearly overtaken by it.

Clara gasped. She panted heavily in reaction to the sudden bombardments in her mind. All of the mental barriers she had been carefully erecting over the past year were being gently torn down one by one. She was suddenly flooded with emotion, as if someone had gathered her up in a fierce embrace and channeled out all of their thoughts into her very soul.

'Doctor?' She called in her mind, her small voice nearly echoing against the powerful one now sitting comfortably in a spot in her heart as if it had always belonged there. She felt tears of hope and disbelief slipping out from behind her closed eyes. It had to be him. She couldn't take much more without him.

'It's nice to see you again, Clara Oswald.'

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A/N: This chapter was short and sweet, but don't worry. Chapter 7 is going to be a whopper. :)


	7. Judgement Day

Chapter 7: Judgement Day

A year ago...

The Doctor awoke to a tingling sensation. He felt stiff and confused. His memory had deserted him. He was cold, and an agonizing pain suddenly shot through him. He attempted to open his eyes, but a rough blindfold obstructed his view.

"What?" he thought aloud, "I can't move! I'm paralyzed!" His limbs refused to obey him, no matter how hard he willed himself to stand.

Shooting pain terrorized his mind. The time vortex, the mind of the Tardis, all the knowledge of what was, what is, and what will be, had been viciously ripped from his mind.

For the first time in his life, he was truly alone.

"Clara." he groaned, "where is Clara." He laid on his side against some freezing surface, moaning as the cold slowly froze him from the outside in. He felt something on his back, a new weight, and his entire body felt like it weighed ten times heavier.

A new pain suddenly stabbed through his back. It snaked around his muscles and spine and fixed itself there. He attempted to cry out in agony, but no sound came.

He managed to gain power to his arms. He attempted to lift himself off the ground against the onslaught. He gritted his teeth and shouted, his scream echoing endlessly.

He was lifted off his feet in an instant. Something had grabbed him and hauled him upwards. He tried to remove the blindfold with his newly-working hands, but he could not force any kind of dexterity into his fingers to even come close to untying the knot.

A blast of energy hit him full on in the chest. He gasped, the wind knocked out of his lungs. Even through his blindfold, he could make out a blinding yellow light. The energy filled him and slammed him back into the ground.

The Time Vortex reestablished itself in his mind. It ran rampant through his body until he was teeming with energy. He clutched at his hearts. They were beating so fast, he was afraid that his body wouldn't be able to handle this amount of stress and would give out.

Blackness clouded his mind in a fog. The pain dissipated. A billion voices suddenly cried out in his unguarded mind. He screamed.

His hearts gave out, his mind collapsed, he crumpled into himself.

And merciful unconsciousness surrounded him in its quiet embrace.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The Doctor stirred. Light chatter echoed around him. Arcs of lingering pain still coursed through him, but had now dissipated greatly. He groaned and realized that the blindfold had been removed.

"He is complete," he heard someone whisper.

"What?" The Doctor rasped back, not daring to open his eyes. He wasn't quite ready for what he was about to see, but he would recognize his own mother's voice anywhere.

"Arise, Doctor. Gaze upon what you have done." a different voice boomed. Anger laced the gruff voice.

Another voice the Doctor could never forget.

He squinted his eyes open against a blinding light. He gasped and staggered back. "No. No. This can't be." he murmured in disbelief. "This can't be true."

The High Gallifreyan Council surrounded him on all sides. He stood in the middle of the enormous arena, thousands of Weeping Angels filling the stands, all with their hands over their faces, a sign of disgrace in Gallifreyan society.

"No..." He choked out. "No.." tears brimmed his eyes.

He gazed down upon his body. He seemed normal, all skin and bone, fully healed, except for a pair of wings now on his back. He felt unbalanced with the new weight and stumbled. He extended the new muscles, testing their strength. He experimentally spread out his new limbs.

The beautiful new wings spread out over eight feet on either side of him. The feathers looked to be skillfully crafted in perfect detail. They were silver, white, and gold, sparkling in the blinding lights. They were heavy, but light enough to not be unbearable.

"No..." the Doctor squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face into his hands.

Billions of voices suddenly shouted at him all at once, accusing him, berating him with hateful words in their native Gallifreyan tongue.

"You destroyed us all, Doctor. Here are all the billions of lives you ended on that day."

He snapped open his eyes and the voices stopped. All the Angels had their eyes shut and their fingers extended accusingly in his direction.

He closed his eyes and the cacophony resumed.

"See the truth, Doctor. See what you have condemned us to for all eternity." The voice grated out.

"No..." the Doctor cried, crumpling to the floor with tears streaming from his eyes. Overwhelming guilt pummeled his spirit relentlessly.

"Time Lords can never truly die. The Time Vortex flowing through them restores them partially and forces them to stay alive for all eternity. We can never rest. We can never gaze upon another's eyes ever again. Every being in the universe runs from our presence." Rassilon's harsh voice spat at him.

"We are our own gravestones. We are forever trapped in the Void, the limbo between life and death."

"We were forced to displace innocent people in time and space in order to gather their time energy. We believed that if we could store enough energy, the Vortex would restore us completely and release us from our stone hell, but all attempts have been in vain," Rassilon's seethed, crouching down to hiss in the Doctor's ear.

"We gave you all the energy we had on Trenzalore, not because we wanted to save you, but to use you. All the time energy you possessed pooled with the energy we gave you, magnifying both. If an angel could have found you, it may have been able to restore thousands of us with your energy. You owe us that."

Rassilon rose again and towered over the Doctor. "You have made the Time Lords and the Weeping Angels one and the same. You have betrayed your own race again by sending that energy into that girl. You gave her our last hope. You have killed us all once again."

The Doctor wept, running his hands over his face in shame. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I was just trying to save her." He tried to curl himself into a tight ball, using his new wings to shield him from their unseeing view.

"Is it true, Grandpa?" he heard a small voice say. "Is it true that you caused all this?" his youngest grandson whispered.

The Doctor lifted his head and managed to open his eyes. The other angels immediately stopped, frozen in stone. As long as they all always had their eyes shut, they could gaze upon each other one at a time, but they could never look each other in the eyes. He squinted up at his stone great grandson through a haze of tears.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He choked out. He scanned the room, recognizing hundreds of people instantly. His father, his mother, his many brothers and sisters, his children, his children's children, and their children.

Everyone, friends, family, neighbors, teachers, the repairmen he stole the Tardis from, everyone glared at him from behind closed eyes. Their stone faces were contorted in silent grimaces. Their arms were extended towards him, as if trying to claw at him. The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut again in raw grief.

"The killer of his own kind." Rassilon whispered in his ear.

"The killer of his own kind!" Rassilon reared up to his full height, spreading his wings, broadcasting his anger through the shared Angel telepathy. "Killer! Killer! Killer!" he chanted.

"Killer! Killer! Killer!" billions of Angels chanted. The roar was deafening, a great symphony of hate latched itself onto him. Angry tendrils of spite curled into his mind and crushed his spirit. The Doctor screamed in agonizing pain, but no sound came from his mouth.

"And what do we do with killers?" Rassilon yelled. "How do we kill an immortal murderer?"

"Mark him!"

"Banish him!"

"Please." the Doctor begged, "You don't know what you're doing. I can help you."

Rassilon stepped over him, spitting on him. "You've done enough."

"You've heard the verdict. The people have decided."

A sudden blast of lightning struck the Doctor in the back. He screamed, coughing violently with the air once again knocked from his lungs. He struggled for air, feeling smothered. White-hot pain shot through all of his over-sensitized nerves. He clenched his teeth, certain that he would break a tooth with the amount of pressure he was exerting on his jaw to keep from crying out.

His new Angel genetics were being rewritten manually by the minds of a billion judges. His wings were now stained black on the topside, with a vibrant blood-red coating the underside.

"You are The Oncoming Storm, The Bringer of Darkness, The Most Feared Being in the Universe. It's about time you were branded as such," Rassilon roared vehemently, "May you wear the spilled blood of a billion galaxies. May your evil be brandished for all to see."

"Remember Amy and Rory?" Rassilon growled. "Didn't you ever wonder how that one Angel survived the paradox? Why it appeared in that exact spot at that exact time to rip them from your life?"

Rassilon bent down and grabbed the Doctor by the chin, lifting his face to become level to his. The Doctor could not see him, but could feel the heat of his body, the anger in his mind, the stench of his breath. "Consider their little trip a gift from me. No charge. We benefited greatly from their abundant Time Energy."

"You are banished, Doctor," Rassilon screamed into his ear, releasing him. "If you love the Earth so much, you can stay there for all eternity. See how it feels, Doctor. When everyone runs at your presence. When you drive away all those you love. Feel it, Doctor. Feel our pain."

A blinding light shot from the sky, forcing the Doctor to open his eyes. All the Angels in the room stood frozen in stone, pointing upwards.

"No..." he whispered.

The light wrapped him in a tight hold, cocooning him. He was snatched from the ground, shot into the sky, dragged through the void, and dumped into the land of the living.

A bout of lightning and a hole in the fabric of time and space spat the Doctor out onto the pavement harshly. He landed with a dull thud, his body spent. He shakily attempted to pull himself up with a grunt, collapsing once again onto the rough pavement.

His vision swam. He groaned. A random person who had heard the noise opened her window, gazing confusedly at the statue lying on the sidewalk.

The human saw him. He felt himself freeze instantly. When seen, Weeping Angels literally ceased to exist.

The Doctor clawed fruitlessly in his own body, feeling himself becoming wiped from reality.

His limbs turned to stone. The statue on the sidewalk laid motionless.

And the Doctor ceased to exist.

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A/N: Please review! You guys don't know how much it encourages me! Thank you all for your kind words. ^_^


	8. Rekindled

Chapter 8: Rekindled

Clara startled and shot her eyes open, breaking her shared mental contact with the statue. She studied the angel before her. It couldn't be him. This was impossible. This must be some cruel trick by the Master or the Dream Crabs. She backed away and examined the stone face closely, finally unhidden to her view.

All at once, she was back to the first day he had regenerated into his current form; when she couldn't see him. The new man before her on that day was so strikingly different from Bow-Tie, that she told herself there was no way this was the same man. It took a day's worth of subtle pleading and a call from Bow-Tie for Clara to finally believe it was him. He was still the Doctor. He was still her Doctor.

But now she was faced with the same uncertainty all over again. She reached out and touched his stone face, holding back tears. Everything was perfect in its every facet. Even the eyebrows were carved out to the utmost detail.

The wrinkles, the light curls of his hair, the unintentional scowl on his face, everything was uncannily accurate. The only things that had been changed were the new robes he wore, and the wings, of course. It was a simple robe, as far as she could tell from the stone, tied off at the waist with a rope and draping down to cover his feet.

'The wings..' Clara thought with realization. She walked over to the other side of him.

The Doctor's wings had been partially extended when she opened her eyes. They were long and slender like a hawk's. The colors didn't match the rest of the stone, but they were still astoundingly beautiful. An iridescent black coated the top feathers, like a raven's, gleaming brightly with a silky sheen in the dim light of her living room.

Flashes of red highlighted the black, giving it a suave look. She studied the underside and nearly gasped at the stunning colors. The red underneath was a deep Crimson, the color of blood. With the sleek trails of the feathers, paired with the lighting in the room, the colors and shadows appeared to be moving, dripping slowly like molasses, but never falling.

She stepped back again. This had to be a trick.

The yellow tendrils that had been dormant in her mind for a year continued to swirl and caress her conscience. They were familiar. She could practically feel the Doctor there in her mind. Whispering to her. Encouraging her.

She had seen all of the Doctor's previous incarnations. She had loved them all. She was one of the only few in all the cosmos who knew his name. She was the closest person to him in the whole universe. She had just gotten to know him for the first time in her long and splintered life, and Clara was not about to let him go.

This was most definitely him. She knew him, she knew his soul. There was no mistaking the yellow tendrils. It was him. The emotions were raw and unfiltered, but it was truly the Doctor. Her Doctor.

Clara squealed and laughed. Unbridled happiness bubbled up in her spirit. Her heart bursted in her chest and she didn't care about the risks anymore. She carried his soul, what could harm her now with the living Doctor inside her and in front of her?

Clara leapt into the Doctor's arms with her eyes shut tight. He instantly re-animated and the rigid stone melted away. He was warm and soft, his hearts thudding vibrantly beneath his robes. She squeezed him tightly, never wanting to let him go ever again.

"Oh Doctor, my Guardian Angel," tears of joy slipped down her face, "I've missed you so much. It was all my fault, you didn't deserve this." She crushed his body to hers tighter, afraid that he would recoil as he always did. He hated hugging.

But not today.

He caught her in a fierce embrace, lifting her from her feet. He buried his face in her hair and nuzzled her neck. "Clara." he whispered, muffled by her shoulder, "Clara. My Clara."

He gazed upon her face, up close for the first time in what has felt like centuries. He brushed a lock of hair from her face. A single tear escaped from his ancient eyes. God, she was so stunningly beautiful, even with all the weight she had lost from stress and the bags under her eyes from crying at night, she would never look any different to him.

All he saw was Clara, and that's all that mattered. He just wanted to tell her. Tell her how deeply he loved her, how he would do absolutely anything for her. The usually bashful grumpy side of him balked at this, of course.

Logic screamed at him that their previous companionship would never work again. He was technically dead. In the sight of every living being he literally died and became his own gravestone. He could never gaze upon her wide eyes ever again. She could never see him alive again. Every time she would open her eyes, she would only ever be met with his statue.

He was dead to her eyes, alive only in her mind and in the blinding darkness. He was nothing more than a phantom to her now. A presence, always there by her side, but never truly alive to her sight.

One night, while he wandered alone on the cold streets after dark, he even contemplated never revealing himself to her. Perhaps, she was better off without him. He had done quite enough to mess up her life. She would hurt for a while, but she would heal without him and carry on in her life. It would be better that way. The last thing he wanted to do was endanger her life again; to have to stand over her broken body for a second time, knowing it was all his fault.

But he couldn't let her go. No matter how hard he tried. He hated himself for it, feeling selfish. The lonely guilt in his hearts dragged him lower every day. The weight of being an outcast, a murderer, without a friend left in the universe was almost too much to bear. He had to let her live her life. She didn't deserve him. Nobody deserved him.

But he needed her. He loved her. He could never stay far from her for long. He eventually resolved to hiding, watching her from a distance, only interfering when she appeared to be in any sort of danger.

The amount of times he wished to walk up to her and touch her, to tap her on the shoulder and reveal himself were too many to count. He had almost done it several times, but could never follow through, always covering his face just before she could ever get a good look at him.

No more lying. No more hiding. A second chance was given to him on a Christmas Day like today, so long ago. He would be a fool to waste it. He reburied his face into her neck, wishing he could stay there forever. He tightened his arms around her and pressed her petite form into him snugly. They fit perfectly, and he began to feel the beginnings of more tears welling up in his eyes.

"Oh how I have missed you so. There were so many times I wished to call your name, to hold your hand again, hell, to even be slapped by you again." he mumbled into the crook of her neck, having to bend over at an almost uncomfortable angle to match her height.

Clara shifted slightly. Judging by her body language, he could tell that she was about to give him a lecture. He knew exactly what she was going to fuss about. He drew in a deep breath and waited for it.

"Why did you never show me? It's been a year, Doctor. A year!" she begged for an answer. "One look, that's all I would have needed. One quiet thought in the corner of my mind, just to know you were alive. I've gone a whole year thinking that my best friend in the world was dead, do you know what that does to people?" she cried, punching his chest lightly.

He'd guessed correctly.

He brought his wings around, shielding them both in a warm curtain of feathers, "Yes. Yes, I do know what it does to people. I'm sorry, Clara, I truly am. It was too early to reveal myself to you. I was sure you'd run from me."

"I'd never run away from you, Doctor." Clara breathed.

"Well..." he started. He could physically feel her bristle at that. She broke the hug, and he immediately balked at the loss of contact.

"Shut up." she rose up on her tip toes suddenly and blindly found his face, "Just shut up, you stupid old man."

Clara tugged him down by the collar and crushed his lips to hers. Fireworks exploded in her mind. Time came to a halt. She tangled her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss.

When he didn't respond after a moment, a pang of worry shot through her. She nearly broke the kiss, an apology already formulating in her mind.

A bolt of sadness shook her to the core. She remembered how he had squirmed when she first kissed his overly affectionate incarnation so many centuries ago. Maybe he still felt the same now as back then where he saw everything between them as borderline platonic. Maybe he didn't love her in the way she had been suspecting.

And then he kissed back, and all was right in the world. He was gentle, obviously nervous. He opened his mind to her, the steady stream of pent-up emotion caught Clara off guard. She gasped into the kiss and drank him in, body and soul. Stars bursted in her eyes and she couldn't resist a moan.

The whole situation was surreal. Clara had lost count long ago of all the dreams and daydreams she'd had of kissing the Doctor. She believed that she had already thought up every scenario possible. Clearly, she had skipped one. Their situation was impossible, but so fitting. The Impossible Girl and the Impossible Man.

They both broke the kiss shyly. A deep blush colored the Doctor's cheeks nearly the color of his wings and he was just glad that Clara couldn't see it. His pudding brain might throw around insults about being 'as red as a tomato,' or something equally horrifying.

"Clara..." he breathed, suddenly unable to produce any other coherent words. He leaned his forehead against hers, unbeknownst to her, a sign of deep affection on Gallifrey normally reserved only for lovers and newly-weds.

Clara took several deep breaths to calm herself down. While the kiss had been unhurried and gentle, what it lacked in roughness, it made up for in intensity and passion. Nobody had ever kissed her like that before. The kiss felt like a true joining of minds, quite literally in their case.

After a period of stillness and soft panting breaths, Clara turned from the Doctor, careful to not set eyes on him. She walked to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for herself and her welcome guest.

He followed quietly behind, content just to see her going about her business, just like the old days. She looked as if a two-ton weight had been lifted off her shoulders. There was a definite spring in her step, and he couldn't help but feel a rare untethered happiness settle in his hearts.

He could feel his guilt, his sadness, and his anxiety melting away. When he gave his life to her, their minds became bonded forever. She tended to broadcast her emotions loudly, and he picked them up easily. Clara's soft mind danced around his refreshingly. She dulled the ache for his people and the guilt that festered there. She curled around him, embracing him, seeing him. For the first time in his life, he truly felt whole.

He had been too busy sorting out all of Clara's human emotions to notice that she had set a tea kettle on the table and had already poured him a cup. A large bowl of sugar cubes sat nearby. She knew him well. She then tied a short scarf around her eyes. She looked absolutely ridiculous like that, but of course he wouldn't tell her.

"I heard that." She giggled, "Yes, I know it's ridiculous, but it's my favorite scarf, so you'll just have to deal with it," she laughed.

She fumbled around for her teacup, succeeding in dunking a corner of her sleeve in the hot liquid. "Oh." she frowned on realization, "This is where it gets tricky."

The Doctor watched her struggle with amusement written all over his face. Usually, he wouldn't let a look like that slip, but since she couldn't see him, he felt slightly more comfortable expressing his emotions. His wings didn't quite fold to allow his back to rest against the chair, so he had them unfurled awkwardly, resting them on the floor.

"Let me help you." he rose up and covered her tiny hand with his. He guided her hand to the handle and made sure that she took a sip successfully without spilling it and burning herself.

"Well this is just peachy." She sipped and flashed him a grin. He only wished that he could see the smile on her eyes too.

He proceeded to pluck sugar cubes from the bowl and drop them into his cup. Each cube made a dull clink against the porcelain. By the thoughtful look on her face, he could tell that she was counting how many he was putting in there.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked innocently.

"That." she pointed, missing his direction by a few feet, "Why do you take so much sugar? You know that amount of tea can't dissolve that amount of sugar. It's as sweet as its ever going to get, and you're just going to have lumps of sugar at the bottom of your cup. It's a supersaturated solution, Doctor. Don't you know your chemistry?" she chuckled with mirth.

His ego was slightly ruffled at that. "Of course I know my chemistry. I practically discovered half the stuff, by accident really, but it counts. The tea is simply unacceptable without this standard amount of sugar, Clara. I don't see why everyone is making such a big deal about it." he waved his arms around, helplessly trying to defend his position.

A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen. They had finished their tea, and now the Doctor was sucking on the remaining sugar cubes in the bowl, taking care to be as quiet as possible lest she find out what he was up to.

"Thank you for saving me all those times." Clara said quietly.

"You know," he said around lump of sugar, "besides myself, you're the most accident-prone person I've ever known, and that's saying a lot. I don't know how you even managed half of that." He rumbled out in his Scottish lilt with a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Still." she shrugged, not denying the facts, "Thanks anyway. Where did you send the mugger who tried to kill me last year?"

"Ah." he growled out, scowling at the memory of anyone ever trying to hurt such an innocent girl as his Clara. "I have a bit more control over how I use my Time Energy, having traveled in the Tardis for so long. I can send people forwards and backwards in time, and can send them away to specific locations, even other planets."

"I sent him to the penal colony of Abeaxos. He still had his gun drawn, and was arrested immediately. You don't have to worry about him ever again, Clara. He's a million light-years away."

A pregnant silence filled the air.

"So what happened, Doctor?" she finally asked, "How did you become an Angel?"

He drew in a deep breath and began to recount what had happened over the past year. He told her everything, leaving out no details. By the time he was finished, her face had considerably paled, and her normally-wiggly self had stayed rooted to her chair for over half an hour now.

She swallowed a lump in her throat, attempting to regain her composure. Everything must have been unbelievably hard for him. Seeing his family, but frozen in stone, in death, knowing that he had damned them all to this stone hell.

And he endured all this just to save her. He gave his life for her, and received pain and abandonment from his own people. It must have killed him to be shunned by his own family and friends. They even marked him to purposefully tear down the name he gave himself, his own identity. Doctor, the word for a wise man and a healer, was crumpled in the dust. "Murderer," they labelled him.

She eventually recovered enough to ask questions. "So every weeping angel we've ever seen is actually a dead Time Lord?"

"Basically, yes." he answered uncomfortably.

"Have you ever recognized any?" she asked, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

"No, that would have been a real reality check. Gallifrey was a big planet with billions of people. I can't expect to know them all, Clara. Also, it appears to always be the same group of angels hunting us."

"So, even the baby angels? What about the angels at Winter Quay with their 'battery farm?' Why do they need to displace people?"

He sighed deeply and continued, "Yes, even the babies. They must be babies that were killed at some point in the Time War. The Angels do not feed off the Time Energy like I previously thought. They somehow collect it all and store it. Apparently, they believe that if they can find enough energy, it could restore some of them. By 'restore,' I don't know if they mean that they can get back to their original bodies, or if it frees them from the prison of immortality to finally die. I'm surprised they haven't gone after you, Clara. They're always looking for time travelers and the Tardis as sources of energy."

"Oh, I don't know." she smiled, "There was one in particular that kept showing up. He was rather shy." she hummed to herself.

A sudden realization dawned on Clara. Her smile disappeared and her expression darkened.

"What about the Tardis?" Clara asked quietly. "Have you seen her at all? She's suffering, Doctor."

The Doctor ran his hands over his well-worn face. It felt like he was missing an essential piece in his hearts. The mind of the Tardis had been ripped from his when he became the Angel and never came back. He couldn't even feel her soft whispers anymore. She was completely absent in his mind, leaving him feeling cold and naked without his trusty old ship, now the only truly living Gallifreyan left in existence.

"I couldn't." he confessed. "It was my own stupid mistake. Centuries ago, in my tenth incarnation, I discovered the Weeping Angels for the first time. They sent me back to 1969 without the Tardis. For decades after that, they sent back innocent people while trying to get into the Tardis for her time energy."

"The Tardis doesn't technically have eyes, so apparently her telepathic sight of the Angels didn't count as the sight of a living thing to turn them to stone. They were able to crowd around her while she sat there helplessly."

"After I found my way out of that mess, I programmed the Tardis to be Angel-proof by allowing her to broadcast her telepathic soul more brightly. That's partially why she became so interactive from my eleventh incarnation on, if you've ever wondered." he trailed off.

"So she doesn't know." Clara concluded.

"No. She doesn't." he sighed sadly. I can never come close to her. If I can see her, she can see me. I'll turn to stone every time, and since she won't move from her spot or ever look away, I'd be frozen in stone forever."

"So why didn't you freeze when you saved me from that mugger a year ago? That was in the alley. The Tardis was only about twenty feet from me." Clara asked quizzically.

"She was distracted. She was looking at you." The Doctor smiled, "It looks like there's more than one Gallifreyan looking out for you, Clara."

"Well, come on then," Clara laughed, "you can't hide from her forever." Clara blindly grabbed his hands, instinctively knowing they would be somewhere around the sugar bowl.

"Clara-" he started.

She brought his hands up to her temples. "She's in my head. We've been keeping each other company for the past year. After you saved me, my telepathic abilities have increased. I can now actually speak to her."

"But that's a Time Lord consciousness, Clara." he sputtered out, baffled. "How can you even pick that up? Your tiny human brain should explode."

"Thanks," she grumbled. He hadn't changed that much.

"Speak to her, Doctor. She needs you." Clara urged him. Even with the scarf covering her eyes, he could tell that they would be doing the wide-eyed pleading thing if they were free.

He sighed and pressed his fingers gently into her temples. He entered her mind easily and searched. Many blockades that had been raised before were missing now. Raw emotions flurried everywhere in her thoughts, but he put those to the side, promising to examine them later, with her permission, of course.

Then he saw her. The Tardis, living in Clara. Both the Doctor and the Tardis been telepathically living in the same mind for over a year, but never once knew the other was there. He could find the definite yellow glow of his ship's consciousness from a mile away. He ran towards it, picking up the emotions leaking from it.

Oh.

She was crying. The Tardis had curled into a dull ball of light in the back of Clara's mind, sobbing silently. He reached out to her, nudging her experimentally.

The Tardis immediately recoiled at the touch, curling up tighter.

'Sexy? It's me.' he gently prodded, pouring love and joy into her.

'Thief?' the Tardis asked meekly before bristling, 'Go away, spirit. My thief is dead. I let him die. I let him save her. Leave me alone.'

'Please, Sexy. It is me. The Doctor. Your thief.' he entwined his soul with hers, feeling her familiar embrace.

'Doctor?' The Tardis reached back warily.

'It's me.' he nuzzled. 'I've been turned into a Weeping Angel, but it's still me. I'm here, I see you.' he encouraged gently.

The ancient ship caught him in a fierce embrace, weaving through his soul, filling the empty spots in his hearts. Unbridled happiness flowed from the Old Girl, nearly as if she were laughing and crying in joy at the same time.

'You came back to me. You came back.'

The last two Gallifreyans in embraced in mind and soul.

Clara smiled uncontrollably. Tears ran freely down both hers and the Doctor's faces. She could hear him laughing, a rare sound that was so infectious, that soon they were both a blubbering, laughing mess.

Their joyous laughter echoed down the halls of the complex. A figure stood at the base of the building, gazing up. The figure smiled wickedly and applied more lipstick liberally.

"Well, Doctor." Missy cooed, capping the lipstick and smacking her lips together. "Looks like I've found you, my dear."

"I think I'll just pop in for a visit."

Missy grinned malevolently and stepped up the stairs.


	9. Second Christmas

Chapter 9: Second Christmas

A sharp series of four knocks at the door startled the Doctor and Clara. The mind link dissolved, the laughter died, and the Doctor felt a new aura in the air. His eyes widened.

"No." he shot up, scrambling to come up with a plan.

"What? What is it, Doctor? Who's at the door?" Clara asked worriedly, scrabbling at her makeshift blindfold.

"It's her." he said, slightly panicked. "It's the-"

Missy burst through Clara's front door. The Doctor immediately froze into stone. "Well, don't bother! I'll just let myself in and make myself comfortable." she announced with a maniacal gleefulness.

Clara ripped off the scarf and dove behind a wall with a burst of adrenaline, frantically searching for something as quietly as she could.

Missy grinned toothily and gazed at the Doctor, taking note of his condition and his wings.

"Oh, you poor thing. You didn't know, did you? This must have been a real shock." she cooed, stroking his stone face patronizingly. She reached up and ran her hand down his outstretched wings.

"Oh, they've marked you. You're so pretty, dear. The colors of blood and death fit you so well."

Without taking her eyes off the Doctor, Missy turned to face the far wall, "It's alright, Clara. I know you're there. You can come out now." she cajoled, crooking her finger.

Clara emerged from behind the wall with a fierce expression. She clutched a can of pepper spray and rose up to her full five-foot-one height. "I am armed. I will use this, so don't try anything with me!" she growled.

"Oh hello there, Clara dear. Put that thing down before you hurt yourself, sweetie. I just need to borrow your keys. No mess, no fuss, that's all I need." the Master giggled.

"Keys?" Clara asked, tightening her grip on the can, "What keys?" she asked, stalling. She knew exactly what Missy wanted.

Missy let out a long, exasperated groan. "What keys? The Tardis keys, duh! I need them for a thing. I'll bring them back, pinky swear." she grinned slyly, wiggling a pinky in the air.

"No." Clara growled.

Missy crooked her head to the side, giving her best pouty face. "Pwease?" she cooed.

"No. I will never give them to you. I will never trust you. How are you still alive, anyway? I was there when that cyberman vaporized you into dust. I can't even trust you when you're dead to stay dead, how can I trust you now?"

"I could say the same about your dear friend, the Doctor, here." Missy pulled out something resembling a tube of lipstick. "But that's a story for another time, my dear."

Missy twisted the capsule and an arc of red lightning struck Clara in the chest. Clara gasped and flew backwards a few feet by the sheer force of the impact. She landed roughly on her side, unable to hold back a surprised shout.

Searing pain lanced through her nerves. Something that felt like ice water rushed through her veins. Clara could feel herself becoming frozen slowly from the inside out.

Clara opened her mouth to scream, but all the air from her lungs was gone. She let out a strangled sob. The can of pepper spray rolled out of her reach. She swiped at it clumsily, bumping it and causing it to clatter farther away.

"See? That didn't feel so nice, did it, Clara? I'd hate to have to mess up your pretty face. Just give me the keys." Missy said sweetly, still keeping her eyes on the Doctor beside Clara, prodding Clara's shoulder with the tip of her umbrella.

"Come on, dearie. It's not a hard choice." Missy sniped, growing impatient. She drew out the lipstick weapon again, uncapping it and readying her finger over the button.

A sudden burst of adrenaline shocked Clara to reality. She knew that she probably couldn't take another shot from the weapon.

Clara lunged forwards, grasping the can of pepper spray. Pain exploded behind her eyes. She twisted around and aimed the can at Missy. Missy gasped in surprise, temporarily caught off-guard. The first blast from the lipstick weapon should have been enough to shock a human into a coma.

"No!" Clara shouted behind clenched teeth. She pressed her finger into the button as hard as she could. A fine mist of spray shot out of the can and directly into the Master's eyes. Missy shrieked and dropped the umbrella, clawing at her eyes.

"You stupid, ungrateful human! I should have killed you the minute I saw you, but I didn't. Why? Because I'm nice like that! And look what I get in return!" Missy screamed.

"I think I should rectify this mistake, don't you think, dearie? I should-" Missy's voice cut off abruptly, filling the air with silence save for Clara's ragged breaths.

Clara dropped the can with a clatter. She slumped to the floor, grateful that Missy's shrieking had ceased. She closed her eyes and curled into herself, silently riding the waves of disabling pain. She whimpered and spared a glance upwards with her last reserve of energy.

Missy was gone. A metallic taste filled the air. The Doctor was crouched in front of her, his face a mixture of horror and dread encased in the stone. His arms were outstretched, as if he was about to scoop her into his arms.

She groaned and allowed her eyes to slip shut. Her mind swam. Blackness clouded the corners of her consciousness. She felt strong arms gingerly cradle her and lift her off the unforgiving tile floor.

"I've got you, Clara. You're going to be fine." The Doctor panted with the effort of having shot the Master as far back into the past as he could. Worry ate at his mind, and he gently laid her down on her bed. He tucked her in, and felt her forehead.

She was cold, ice cold. The Doctor immediately rounded up all the blankets he could find in the house, returning with a massive pile.

"That was a biotic shifter, Clara. Among other things, it freezes cells to force creatures into hibernation. That kind of shock she gave you should just put you into a short coma."

He bundled the blankets all around her and cranked up the heater. "You're going to be fine as long as you make it for the next few hours."

Clara's mind in his continued to struggle weakly for a few moments before finally going still. Her glow dulled, but remained. The Doctor reached out for Clara, guarding her by erecting blockades all around her. If someone else came into the room, no matter what happened to her body, her mind would be safe, frozen in stone with his.

The Doctor felt her forehead again. His sensitive hands picked up the temperature immediately.

"87°F and dropping." he withdrew his hand and studied her face that was barely peeking out from underneath all the blankets. "Oh, this can't be good."

If she didn't warm up soon, severe hypothermia could set in and irreversibly alter her brain function. Humans weren't made to hibernate.

"Oh, I'm going to regret this." he grumbled, knowing what he had to do. Body heat was always the best method of warming someone up if nothing else was available and blankets didn't work.

The Doctor lifted up the corner of the first blanket warily. He was not usually a "touchy" person in this incarnation. He didn't want to invade her personal space. How would she react when she eventually woke up and saw him there?

He decided to only stay until her temperature rose acceptably, then excuse himself before she could wake.

He kicked off his shoes and clambered in under the covers as awkwardly as ever. His huge wings proved to be a hindrance, getting caught between the layers, and causing him to have to lie on his side in a weird position.

"Oh, great." he grumbled, struggling with his bulkier body, though secretly pleased at the opportunity to be this close to Clara without her commenting on it.

He wrapped his arms around her still form gently. The heat from all the blankets and the increased temperature of the room were already lulling him to drowsiness. The Doctor held her carefully, so that if she woke up and looked at him, she wouldn't be crushed by his statue.

He brought his wings around her, tucking one beneath her, and the other over the tops of the both of them. He pressed her body into his, which turned out to not be as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. He sighed sleepily, hugging her gently. He measured her temperature constantly, and released a satisfied groan of relief when he discovered that it was steadily rising.

He burrowed further into the blankets and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

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"Why, hello there." Clara giggled teasingly. "Now that's a sight I thought I'd never see."

Clara turned herself slowly in the Doctor's arms to avoid waking him. Before now, she wasn't even sure if he ever actually slept, being a Time Lord and all. But now, even frozen in stone, he looked so peaceful and innocent. His legs were splayed out everywhere across the bed, his hair was a tangled mess of curls, and he had his nose buried in her shoulder. Clara wondered briefly how he had breathed like that all night.

Clara tried to move more, but found that she was cocooned by a pair of stone wings. She closed her eyes and the rough stone dissolved into silky feathers. She stroked a few beneath her back gently, enjoying their softness.

A fluttering feeling suddenly took over her. Why exactly was he in bed with her? It must have been a life or death situation for him to even consider close contact for any amount of time with someone else, but here he was. There her Doctor slept, her reclusive, impossible Doctor, and she decided that she would never figure him out.

A spark of hope flickered for just a second in the bottom of Clara's heart.  _'Does he_   _actually love me?'_  she hoped.  _'Why else would help through all this trouble for just a simple friend? A friend that has hurt him time and time again?'_

_'No.'_  she reasoned. Not this Doctor. Either he hid his feelings well, or he didn't have any at all, and she was afraid that it was the latter.

_'Well, that's clearly not true.'_ she countered herself. She'd been inside his mind. She knew what she saw. She grinned despite herself and laughed softly. She nuzzled into his warm embrace and basked in the rare contact.

After a few minutes, Clara began to squirm. "God, it's so hot in here. Since when do I live in bloody Mordor?" Clara grumbled, kicking off several endless layers of blankets.

The Doctor shifted slightly at her movement. His breathing picked up its pace and he drew in a deep breath. He had his eyes scrunched shut rebelliously, as if he was attempting to stay in whatever pleasant dream he'd had. He let out a low groan that caused his whole body to vibrate.

"Wha-" he grumbled, blinking his eyes open against the sunlight.

Clara snuggled into him, pleased at the uncommon opportunity. He would never have allowed this had he been fully awake, and she was already used to taking every chance she could get to be close to him. She closed her eyes so he could stay animated and tilted her face towards where she believed his was.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Clara giggled, poking him in the chest.

The Doctor didn't respond to this. He stretched and groaned.

"Remind me to never sleep again. Time Lords don't really need it, and neither do Angels. I'm so drowsy, it's impossible to get up." he muttered to himself. "How do you humans do this every day?"

"Doctor, it's nearly noon and it's the day after Christmas." Clara reasoned, pulling at him to get up.

"Day after Christmas?" he asked sleepily, "Oh, we can't have that. Let's just pop back to tomorrow then, shall we?" The Doctor said in between yawns.

Clara rolled her eyes and snorted. "We can't do that. You're an angel, remember? One look at the Tardis, and poof! You're stuck forever."

"Come on," she coaxed, "I didn't get to do any of my Christmas traditions yesterday. Let's have a second Christmas. Let's celebrate today. I have presents, movies, and a turkey sitting in the freezer that I was too lazy to cook yesterday."

"Why, Clara? Just let me sleep." he moaned half-heartedly.

The Doctor suddenly shot up, lifting himself up. Everything that had happened the night before came crashing back down to him. He checked her temperature and let out a sigh of relief when it came back as normal.

"How do you feel? Any pain, any headache? Anything?" he asked worriedly, looking up and down her body for any signs of injury.

"What are you talking about? I feel fine." Clara furrowed her eyebrows in confusion before letting out a slight chuckle at his panicked frenzy.

"The real question here is, how did I end up in bed, and the million-dollar question is, why are you in bed with me?" she hugged his arm and giggled.

"The Master. Missy. Biotic shifter-" he struggled for words, suddenly aware of their close proximity. "Missy shot you with a biotic shifter. Among other things, it can force creatures into hibernation by lowering their body temperature. Problem is, humans aren't meant to hibernate. It probably wouldn't have killed you, but it might have put you into a coma and altered your mind."

"To warm you up so that wouldn't happen, I had no choice but to share my body heat with you. T-That's all, no other reason." he stammered out quickly as if he just wanted to get out the fastest explanation he could muster and drop the subject.

"Uh-huh." Clara hummed, not convinced. "My temperature is fine now, and you seem pretty cozy here."

"Clara." he warned.

Clara shrugged. "Come on, as much as I like hugging you, I don't want to stay in bed all day. Let's go and do something fun. Let's open presents. I even got you one," she smiled.

"Right." he clambered to the edge of the bed and sat up, secretly upset to leave her comforting embrace. He could have stayed like that all day had she let him. That was the deepest, most peaceful sleep he'd ever had in his life.

He never slept anymore partially because he didn't really need it, but also because of the nightmares that plagued him every night. Blowing up Gallifrey, some kind of monster chasing them, the Master, losing Clara over and over again throughout his incarnations... The list could go on and on, but last night was dreamless. It seemed like Clara was his defender.

His Impossible Girl, even in a nearly-comatose state, was still there to guard him against himself.

She was what he needed all along, and a pang of sadness suddenly stabbed through his hearts. He was guaranteed to lose her again someday, and that time there would be nothing he could do about it. Humans were so fragile and their lives were so short. She would age, wither, and eventually die of old age while he would be forced to live on as an angel. A lonely old statue, banished from everyone who ever loved him, forced into an immortal death.

"Are you getting up or what?" Clara laughed after he had suddenly stopped in his tracks at the edge of the bed. The Doctor snapped out of his trance-like state as if she had just thrown cold water over his face. His train of thought dissolved. He got up and stretched his wings fully, nearly able to touch the far edges of the room from wingtip to wingtip.

"Alright, Clara," he gave in. "Let's go celebrate your pudding-brain holiday." He smiled fondly, making his way out of the room with Clara's hand in his, guiding her so she wouldn't bump into anything in her blindness.

Clara left him in the living room to have his fun looking at the Christmas tree. She knew he secretly loved Christmas and all the things associated with it, so without a word, she let him be, smiling to herself knowingly.

She took out the turkey out of the freezer to thaw and came back into the room. She forgot to close her eyes, so he immediately froze. He sat there at the base of the tree, holding one of the presents in mid-shake.

"No, no, no, no. You can't do that. It might be fragile." She scolded his statue, plucking the present from his stone hands and placing it back under the tree. She looked away and he instantly came back to life.

"Aw, Clara." he pouted slightly. "I was just practicing the only scientific method known to man for finding out what's in the boxes. You can't punish me for science." he whined in his low Scottish baritone.

Clara could barely hold back a snort at that. Here she had a 2,000 year old alien, who looked like a man in his fifties, complete with wings and a scowl, whining in his deep voice because she had caught him attempting to peek at the presents like a five-year-old boy.

She shook her head and smiled despite herself. She could never stay mad at him for very long. A realization suddenly struck her. She knew. Watching him there, so utterly striking, with his out-of control peppered hair, his bare arms, which carried a hidden strength- sticking out from beneath his sleeveless gown, and his stern face which softened only for her, she knew.

She was so in love. She never stood a fighting chance. Long ago, she'd told Vastra that she "had no interest in pretty young men." Never had that been more true. She never knew why she fell for Danny so quickly, and then lied to him and pushed him away like she never actually cared much for him at all.

Now she had it figured out. Danny was her shield. She was so afraid to approach the Doctor once again with his prickly attitude and new face, especially after he told her that he was "not her boyfriend," that she didn't know how to handle the situation. So she went out and distracted herself with a new boyfriend. Of course, that only created an awkward love triangle which hurt all parties involved.

But now things were different. This incarnation of the Doctor was the closest to his true self than any of the others before him. The veil fell away, and at first she thought she'd never love him again. She was wrong.

He changed, and so did she. Gone was the innocent snarky Clara, now she had turned into a liar and was filled with anger. Both showed their rawest forms to each other, and their relationship almost dissolved because of it, but now they were back and closer than ever before because they had overcome their faults and healed together.

Clara realized that she loved the Doctor deeply, and had all along. She only hoped that he felt the same way. Clara looked back at him, frozen again, and smiled sadly.

Even as a statue, he was still as fetching as ever, but she still longed to actually see him again. She could never see his skin, the flush in his cheeks, or his stormy blue eyes...whenever she opened her eyes, a statue is all she would ever be able to see.

She looked away again and began opening presents. Most of them consisted of new outfits from her friends, or kitchen appliances from her parents. Finally, she found one in the back with simple black wrapping paper and a silver bow.

"This one is for you, Doctor." Clara smiled, handing it to him.

The Doctor, who had tuned out slightly while Clara had been opening endless gifts of clothes, suddenly perked up.

"Me?" he pointed to himself, forgetting that she couldn't see it.

"Yes. I told you that I got you something earlier this morning." she giggled, pressing the box into his hands.

"Oh, sorry. I must have deleted it." he apologized, not accepting the gift yet.

"Go on, take it." Clara smiled. "It's from me and the Tardis. We both chipped in."

"But...I didn't get you anything." he said guiltily. It wasn't his fault. How could he as a weeping angel?

Clara's face lit up warmly, and if her eyes were open, he believed they would be twinkling. "I don't need a gift. I have all I need." she pressed it into his arms encouragingly, "Take it."

The Doctor hesitantly reached out and accepted the gift. "Thank you, Clara." he said gratefully.

"Come on. Open it. I've had it sitting around for a year for when you would come back." Clara urged with a chuckle.

He looked at her in surprise. "You didn't know I would come back. I was dead to you."

"I always knew. I figured that if anyone could do the impossible and come back from the dead, it would be the Impossible Man." Fondness laced her voice, and warmth settled in his hearts. Even in death, she had never given up on him.

He carefully untied the bow and ripped through the paper. He pulled off the lid to the box and gasped. "Clara...how?" he stammered, his voice broken up with disbelieving laughs.

Inside was a brand new sonic screwdriver. It was similar to his old one, but was a sleek black. When the button was pressed, red light emitted from the tip accompanied by the familiar trill. The light traveled down veins like circuitry across the length of the screwdriver and glowed beautifully. The prongs at the tip were now a bright chrome, and the handle was the smoothest black leather.

"I..." he laughed out, "I don't know what to say."

"Merry Christmas, Doctor." Clara beamed.

"You lost your old screwdriver on Aluereygo XI, so the Tardis and I made you a new one. I just wanted to thank you for all you've done for me. Of course, the Tardis did most of the work, I just designed it. She added a whole lot of new settings, although she didn't really mention exactly what those new settings are, so I guess you'll just have to find them out." Clara shrugged.

"Oh, Clara. Clara. Clara. This is absolutely beautiful. Thank you. Thank you so much." he looked his gift up and down like an excited child, trying out the new settings.

He pointed it at the tree, and the lights shone brighter. He pointed it at the radio and Christmas music filled the room with its jolly melody.

The Doctor scowled. He hated Christmas music. He reached to change the station, but Clara somehow sensed what he was going to do and laid her hand over his to stop him.

"Silver Bells" came on, one of her favorites. Clara grabbed his hands and attempted to pull him up to no avail. "Come on, Doctor. Dance with me."

His eyes widened, and he kept his backside firmly planted on the ground. She continued to pull on his hands, trying to lift him up. He chuckled inwardly at his tiny human. "No. No. No, Clara. Not the dancing. I hate dancing. There has to be a line drawn somewhere."

Even with her eyes closed, he could almost feel her staring through his soul with pleading eyes. He continued to resist for a while, but he eventually felt like he owed it to her. He didn't get her a gift, after all, and he was the one who turned on the music in the first place.

"Come on, Doctor. Just one dance. I know that you can dance. I've seen your other incarnations, and you have way more elegance than Bow-Tie ever did. Go on, hop to it. Dance, Doctor. Do as you are told." she smiled coyly.

He sighed and rose to his feet. He never could resist her when she used that voice. He had gone to hell and back for her, he had died for her, surely this wouldn't be too difficult.

"Just one dance. That's all." he grumbled out quietly.

Clara squealed in triumph and positioned herself as if to do a tango.

"Clara." he asked, confused. "This isn't the right music for a tango. It's too slow."

"It's ok." her face lit up gorgeously with that smile of hers. God, he had missed that smile for so long. "We have our own song." she beamed.

He started out in a tango slowly, guiding her to accommodate for her voluntary blindness. He hesitantly took one of her small hands in his, and rested the other on her waist.

They danced across her living room floor slowly. Clara laced their fingers together and the Doctor's breath hitched in his throat. He relaxed into her slightly. Clara eventually became fed up with the slow pace and took over the dance.

The Doctor turned out to be an excellent dancer, and Clara definitely had a talent for it, even while sightless. Soon, they were an elegant synergy of twirling bodies and beautiful flourishes. Once started, the Doctor put his grace in this incarnation to good use, flawlessly dipping Clara nearly to the floor before twirling her around over him. His usually subtle strength manifested itself seamlessly, and Clara used it to propel herself more daringly into the moves.

The song ended, but neither cared. They had their own symphony. Their minds were joined and danced around each other in step with their bodies. By now, they were a mess of panting breaths and three thumping heartbeats.

The intense dance eventually ebbed into a slow dance once the two became too tired to go on much further. They leaned into each other, hands interlaced, souls twining. They swayed slowly from side to side to the tune of "All I Want for Christmas is You," basking in each other's company. They rested on each other, finally calming down.

"Clara." The Doctor panted out, resting his forehead on hers. "Clara. Clara. Clara." he cupped her face, his shyness from earlier dissolving, probably due to the surge of adrenaline in his veins.

Clara felt for his face and traced her hand down his chiseled features. She mapped it out, as if memorizing every wrinkle, every hollow, every soft piece of skin. She twirled her fingers in his hair. It was soft and bouncy. She could get lost in the sheer volume of the fluff.

"I told you you could dance." she breathed.

Clara stood on her tiptoes. The Doctor knew what she wanted and leaned down. Their lips met gently, and both moaned. The kiss deepened, and it became a battle for control. At some point, the Doctor gathered her into a tight embrace and flared out his wings. The bright red flashed out as their passion heightened. Both had their eyes squeezed shut tightly. Brilliant stars exploded in their eyes, and their lungs burned for air.

Finally, they broke the kiss. The Doctor could have gone on longer with his respiratory bypass system, but he knew she wouldn't be able to hold her breath for much longer. Their embrace tightened, and the Doctor brought his massive wings around them both.

"You said that the Angels had ideas to restore themselves. How do we restore you?" Clara gasped, drawing in breaths. She wished so badly to see the flush on his cheeks right now, the tangled mess of his hair, the light sheen of sweat over his bare biceps. She wanted to see his eyes again. Half of his communication was translated through his eyes, and she would give anything to see how they were now.

"We can't, Clara. That would take phenomenal amounts of Time Energy. An attempt could rip the Vortex in half." he answered sadly.

"Missy wanted the keys to the Tardis. She knew that the Angels were Time Lords. Maybe she was onto something." Clara reasoned.

The Doctor hugged Clara tighter. "She'll be back. Whatever she wants, she'll literally break heaven and earth to get it."

"Missy said she knows where Gallifrey is." He continued. "She said it is in another dimension, but that's impossible. I blew up Gallifrey. It exploded into a million fragments. There was no teleportation or anything about it. Gallifrey died in the flames." he grated out somberly.

The Doctor brushed a lock of hair, which had somehow draped itself over Clara's face, behind her ear. "I can only hope that we will be prepared for when she returns. We were lucky this time that she wanted you alive. She could have killed you in an instant. I shouldn't have been so careless. I'm sorry, I should have detected her presence earlier."

"It's ok," Clara snuggled into his chest, "You were a bit distracted at the time."

He sighed in agreement and rested his chin over her shoulder. He knew that this was the calm before the storm. Missy would certainly return, and all hell would break loose. He hugged Clara tighter, wishing that he could protect her forever.

But he knew he couldn't. During an attack, if anyone kept their eyes on him, he would be powerless. Clara was a strong woman, and could easily take care of herself, but he didn't want to take any chances. They had to come up with a plan.

That night, the Doctor and Clara mapped out their plan, preparing for the war certain to come.

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A/N: There! Two long, fluffy Whouffaldi chapters for you guys! Sorry if it got a bit OOC and for the two day wait. It's becoming harder and harder to write these chapters so quickly with work and all. I've almost given up on this like 9000 times. I'm literally thinking it up as I go along, and sometimes I hit a block. So please be patient, and please review! I literally can't say this enough, but reviews are so encouraging. And please, feel free to express any criticism you like. I have literally had no time to edit this, I'm just spewing chapters out as fast as I can. For those of you who have reviewed, thank you so much! I love you all, and it has been a pleasure to write for you! ;D


	10. Cornered

A/N: OMG, I'm so sorry for the long wait, guys. I was a bit stuck on a writer's block, and I've just had so much going on with my family and my job and such, that I have had literally had no time for anything. Anyway, I put the time to good use, thinking it out, and now I have everything planned and ready to go. Plot twists and head canons galore in the future. Hold on to those last two fluffy chapters because sh*t is about to hit the fan in the next few chapters. I have a few days off from work this week, so you can hopefully expect faster updates for a while. :)

Chapter 10: Cornered

"We do have a plan, right?" Clara asked, slightly worried. She clutched her cup of hot tea tightly in her hands as if bracing herself for the Doctor's answer. It had been two weeks since Missy's initial attack, and every new day brought a fresh level of anxiety to their minds.

Missy was highly unpredictable. Many nights had been spent arguing over various plans, and eventually all ideas were shot down. Now that Christmas break was almost over, the pressure to come up with a solid plan weighed on their spirits like elephants.

The Doctor sighed and ran a hand through his unruly curls in frustration. "No. Not really. I have bits and pieces that might work, but without the Tardis and with my condition, we're practically sitting ducks."

The Doctor groaned and slumped down

tiredly into a chair. He didn't have the energy he used to, one of the disadvantages of being technically dead.

"Wonderful." Clara muttered.

Missy could arrive today, or in ten years, there was no way to tell. She was undoubtedly preparing an army, which could consist of literally anything. If she wanted to, no Cyberman, Human, or Weeping Angel could withstand her charismatic rule. She was cunning, a genius, really. No enemy of the Doctor's would hesitate to seek her out for help.

Missy thought like the Doctor, knew his techniques, and understood him better than nearly every being in the universe. The Master was the ultimate ally for all against the Doctor. Who knows who will join her side this time?

"You can't go to school." the Doctor decided in a firm voice. "I can't have you walking to school every day alone. You'll just have to find a substitute again."

"Doctor!" Clara argued, "I can't just quit my job like that. It's the only way I'm supporting myself, and we don't know when Missy will come back, if it all. It could be ten years, it could be never."

"Or it could be tomorrow." he shot back.

"True, but I can't hide forever. Where can I hide, anyway? She's been here, she knows where I live. With a little effort, she could easily find me wherever I am, and she seems to be able to sense you." Clara reasoned.

"The point is," Clara released a breath she didn't know she was holding, feeling her hope deflating and rushing away with it, "I am just as vulnerable here as anywhere else. Without the Tardis, there is nowhere I can hide."

The Doctor didn't make a retort. He knew she was right. A tense silence filled the air.

"Looks like we'll just have to wing it." The Doctor said with forced cheerfulness, and Clara could hear him fluttering his wings briefly to highlight the lame pun.

Clara rolled her eyes beneath her blindfold. Unfortunately, no pun ever escaped her. However, she did have to admit that it did lighten the terse atmosphere a bit.

Clara took a long look at his wings, lifting the blindfold to see. He froze with an annoyed expression on his face. One advantage to the Doctor being a weeping angel was that Clara could shut him up whenever she wanted just by looking at him. She smiled sadly, replaced the blindfold, and sat down.

"Can you fly?" Clara asked, changing the subject to, hopefully, a lighter topic.

The Doctor's eyes widened slightly. "Oh. I've tried. I can't say I've quite managed it yet."

He sighed and explained, "Imagine if I attempted to fly- first of all, I would need a lot of room, so I would have to be outside...in the open. People would stare at the bulky humanoid flying in the air with bright massive wings." he gesticulated wildly with his hands, "If only one person saw me, I would freeze into stone and crash into the ground. I don't know if that would injure me, but surely it would cause some damage to whatever's below."

"Yeah, I guess." Clara replied absentmindedly. She couldn't stop thinking about how her life had gotten exponentially more complicated since the Doctor's return. Somehow, she liked it better that way. The drama he dragged her into was usually enough to distract her from over-analyzing everything, and to just accept things at face value.

She had to go to school. Life must go on. A thought suddenly struck her, and she realized that she didn't want to leave the Doctor alone at her apartment all day. He'd only get up to shenanigans.

Last week, he had tried to improve nearly every appliance in the flat with his new screwdriver, and it drove her nuts. Most of the "improvements" did not end well, such as when he tried to fix the flue of the chimney. He only made everything rattle open, and great plumes of soot and ash coated the room.

When she came home from shopping that day, the coffee pot was tipped on its side, leaking coffee everywhere, the fridge was modified to be so cold that when she opened it everything glistened with ice and was freezer-burnt, and when she walked into the living room, she was not very surprised to see a very black room with a very black angel. After a good scolding and a vigorous spray-down with the garden hose, he had not tried modifying anything again.

"Right. Tomorrow is the first day of the new semester. It's kind of a milestone day where it's crucial to give the kids key material to set them up for the second term. I can't miss it. I'm sorry, Doctor, and don't follow me. Don't do anything to the flat while I'm gone. Anything, got it?!" she warned.

The Doctor sighed in defeat and grumbled something incoherent under his breath. He crossed his arms defiantly and slumped in his chair.

"Don't even think about it." Clara said sternly. Even with the blindfold on, he could almost feel her pointed gaze.

"Fine." he growled, sulking. He knew when he was beaten.

The next morning, Clara emerged early from her bedroom. After two weeks of late night movies and reading, she realized that she should have gotten her body used to her school schedule again by going to bed and waking up early for a few days.

Now she was suffering the usual Monday morning drowsiness because of it. Clara groaned irritably and stepped out into the hall. She had a headache, and everything swam around her.

The Doctor, who generally wandered around the house at night doing God knows what while Clara was asleep, noticed her state immediately, and raced over the second she blinked.

Her hair was tousled in every direction, her nightie was bunched up on one of her legs, and she staggered around as if she were drunk. Clara closed her eyes, and leaned against the Doctor for support.

"Clara! Clara, are you alright? What happened? Are you sick? Are you dying?" The Doctor sputtered out worriedly, scanning her everywhere for any obvious signs of injury. He held her shoulders tightly to keep her stable on her feet.

"Mm...fine." Clara mumbled out, wiggling out of his hold. "I'm fine, Doctor. I'm not dying, I just am not a morning person."

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief which instantly turned to confusion. "Pudding brain bodies are so illogical. Why are you more tired now after sleeping for eight hours than when you went to bed last night? That doesn't make any sense. You should get that looked into. Maybe you're malfunctioning."

"Shut up." Clara giggled drowsily. "Point me in the direction of the bathroom. I need a shower." she ordered without her usual degree of firmness.

"Sure thing, boss." he turned Clara in the general direction of the bathroom and watched her walk away. "Are you sure you don't want me to hold you in there? By the way you're wobbling along, you can barely stand on your own. You might slip in the shower and crack your head open." he said with innocent concern, again oblivious to human privacy norms.

"No." Clara pushed past him, entering the bathroom. "I can manage on my own, thank you very much. Go away," she shooed him off.

Clara shut the door in his face. The Doctor grumbled broodingly. He told himself that she would be fine. How old was she now? 54? She could easily take care of herself, and he knew she was right. What made him think that she couldn't handle a little morning sleepiness and a perfectly harmless shower? Had he really always been this overprotective?

Maybe it was just with Clara. But having a soulmate die in front of you several times could do things to people. Now the Doctor never wanted her out of his sight. It was his fault that she had been killed on Aluereygo XI, and he vowed to himself that it would never happen again.

"Fine, Clara." he called through the door over the sound of running water. "I'll stand guard here. Just call me if you need anything. Or scream, one of the two. Both will work."

"Go away!" she shouted back, annoyance lacing her voice.

"Fine." the Doctor grumbled to himself. He stood by the other side of the door and crossed his arms. Looks like he wasn't the only grumpy one around here.

Almost an hour later, Clara finally opened the door of the bathroom. She was completely transformed. Her makeup was perfect, though she didn't really need any, he thought, and her school outfit for today was a stunning red blouse, which fit her perfectly, complimented by a tasteful black skirt. Her face was bright, and she beamed up at him cheekily.

"How do I look?" she asked, fidgeting with the beautiful braid she had put in her hair today.

"You..." the Doctor stumbled over his words. She was absolutely stunning, but of course he would never say that out loud.

"You're alive." he managed, "You were in there for so long that I thought you had cracked your little pudding head."

Clara tried to roll her eyes even though they were shut, "Of course I'm alive!" she said exasperatedly, "I can take care of myself, Doctor! Seriously, you need to stop worrying all the time, and you still haven't answered my question," she pressed, "How do I look?"

"Colorful. I like the colors." he said, not knowing what else to say. "Why haven't you made yourself taller today?"

"That's a lot coming from a stone parrot-man." she scoffed with a giggle. "And I'm not wearing heels today. They're uncomfortable."

"Then why ever wear them?" he asked, constantly baffled by nonsensical human fashion. "I prefer my humans shoulder-height, anyway."

"Bye." she called over her shoulder with a short wave. "I'm leaving now."

"What?" he ran after her, "You can't leave! What if something happens to you?"

"Stop being so overprotective, Doctor. We discussed this last night." she stated firmly, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Of course I'm going, why do you think I got dressed up? I don't get up at five in the morning without a good reason. Where did you think I was going?"

"I...don't know." he called after her. She had exited the flat and was now making her way to the stairs. He couldn't chase after her without risking being seen, so he put his loud Scottish baritone to good use.

"What if Missy returns? We still don't have a plan!" he called after her.

"I can't stay cooped up in there any longer, Doctor!" she yelled back, making her way down the stairs. "If it makes you feel better, I'll call you when I get to the school and whenever I leave."

The Doctor was far from happy with this solution, but accepted it. "I don't have a phone! No Tardis, remember?"

"I'll call the house phone. Now shoo! You're going to make a scene with all your shouting. Do not do anything to the flat while I'm gone. Anything! No improvements, no science experiments, nothing. I'm off, now. Wish me luck." Clara yelled from her position halfway down the stairs.

"Good luck, Clara." he replied.

She smiled and finished her descent down the stairs. He watched her closely, constantly scanning the environment for any signs of danger. The crisp January air caught her, and she shivered, pulling her thick coat tighter around herself. Even with her lowered sensitivity to temperature, it was still freezing today. She flipped the hood over her head and disappeared from his view behind a building.

"Be safe." he whispered after her. He felt so utterly helpless. If he went out to follow her, someone could see him and freeze him to the spot. Then she would be even more defenseless.

He closed the door against the wind. A few flurries of snow trailed in after him. He took out his sonic screwdriver and studied it. He had had nothing to do but tinker with it for the past two weeks. All this sitting still and domesticity was driving him insane. The Doctor was not a "settling" man. He felt like he was trapped, and he was aching to see the stars again.

A sudden idea struck him. He smiled to himself brightly and immediately scrabbled after all the tools he'd been using, now scattered all around the flat. "Yes! Oh, stupid, stupid, Doctor! I should have thought of this ages ago!" he smacked his forehead, "It's so obvious!"

He dove to the table and began tearing his screwdriver apart.

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Clara arrived at the school without any incidents, called the Doctor, argued a bit with said Doctor, and went on with her day.

It only took two class periods for Clara to regret coming to school that day. The class was hell. Nobody did their homework over the holidays, and everybody, including the teachers, was overly grumpy. Courtney continued to mess with her, as usual, and Danny's newly-occupied classroom across the hall still continued to haunt her.

By the end of the day, Clara was exhausted. She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a long, frustrated sigh. She gathered up all the papers that had been turned in and looked to her phone on her desk.

Clara picked up the phone and dialed.

Before the first ring had even finished, the Doctor had already snatched the phone off the hook. "Clara? School ended sixteen minutes ago. I was beginning to worry."

"I'm fine, Doctor. I'm taking the usual route home. I'll be there in twenty. Whatever you did while I was gone, you have that long to clean it up, ok?" she said knowingly.

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"Doctor." she warned.

"Yes, boss." he sighed in defeat, looking over at all the various screwdriver parts scattered around the kitchen. "It'll be clean before you get home."

Clara smirked despite her mood and pocketed her phone. She took the papers and locked the door behind her. She exited the school and shuddered against the biting wind. A thin layer of snow crunched beneath her boots, and Clara immediately wished that she had worn more than a skirt and leggings today. She faced into the icy breeze and started on her way home.

About halfway back to her flat, she noticed something bright and red standing out against the dreary grey and white of London's back alleys. Narrowing her eyes, she cocked her head slightly in confusion.

"That wasn't there before, was it?"

It was a classic bright red London telephone booth parked cozily in the junction between two buildings. It stood out starkly against the rest of the street, and Clara wondered why she hadn't noticed it earlier.

"They must have just had it put in, but that's a weird spot to have a booth." she eyed it suspiciously. It looked just like any other phone booth, but something ominous seemed to loom around it like fog.

Clara eventually shrugged it off, making mental note of it. She continued down the quiet alley, rounding the corner behind a large abandoned department store.

"EXTERMINATE!" a horribly familiar robotic voice threatened.

Clara dropped her bag. Her blood ran colder than the snow beneath her feet. She shrieked and wanted to run, but found she was rooted to the spot.

A legion of at least thirty Daleks immediately surrounded her, staring deep into Clara's soul with their single mechanical eyes. They appeared to be sizing her up, devising the best possible strategy against her in seconds.

Clara drew in sharp shuddering breaths. She fumbled in her pocket for her phone. She found the buttons and dialed as quickly as she could, her fingers bumbling and nearly dropping the phone. The Doctor picked up instantly. Worry laced his voice.

"Clara?" he asked, afraid of her reply.

"Oh, hello there, Clara, dear. Please put that on speaker, will you? I'd like to chat too." a sicky-sweet voice crooned.

Missy emerged sauntering from behind a dalek. She twirled the hook of her umbrella around her arm and swaggered through the dalek line.

Clara gasped, attempting to form words, but all died in her throat. She backed away slowly with nowhere to go, cornered on all sides by daleks.

"Clara? Are you ok? Who else is there?" the Doctor's voice crackled through the receiver.

Missy stood mere inches from Clara and smirked. She plucked the phone from her prone hands.

"Hello, dearie. Sorry if I'm a bit late, traffic was hell." Missy smirked evilly at Clara, baring all of her sharp teeth, "I brought a few friends along with me, if that's ok." Missy said sweetly into the phone, grinning madly.

The Doctor's face paled immediately. This was all too soon. All of his worst nightmares were coming true all at once. He swallowed thickly and felt himself tense defensively. Why hadn't Clara replied yet? He clutched the phone so hard it nearly cracked in his fist.

"We're waiting for you, dear. Aren't we, my friends?" Missy held out the phone to the daleks.

"EXTERMINATE!"

"EXTERMINATE!"

The warning boomed out of the speaker clearly. The Doctor dropped the phone. It clattered to the floor in several pieces, but he didn't care. He pounced on his screwdriver and pointed it at himself. He wasn't finished installing the new settings yet, so he prayed that it wouldn't tear him apart.

The screwdriver whirred and the Doctor screamed. The phone, several feet away, crackled with jagged words.

"We'll see you there, honey." Missy cooed, lifting Clara's chin with a finger. Clara immediately tried to shake her off defiantly. Missy released her and grinned almost proudly at her. "You wouldn't want to miss all the fun."

The house phone sputtered and died. Its last words fell on deaf ears.

The Doctor was gone.

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A/N: Please review! I've kind of gone downhill with my passion with this story. I guess you could say I have commitment issues when it comes to writing. I already want to start another. I have only kept going because I want to make you guys happy. Sorry if it gets a bit ooc from time to time, I am just rushing this along. Your reviews are extremely encouraging, and it has been and always will be an honor to write for you. Thank you for the time you have taken reading this story. :)


	11. Ultimatum

A/N: Aaaand the sh*t hits the fan again. Oops lol.

Chapter 11: Ultimatum

The Doctor was gone. Literally.

Momentarily absent from all planes of reality, the Doctor floated in limbo. Light pierced through him, and he shot awake. Darkness clouded his vision as he stirred from unconsciousness. Reality swirled into view and charged him with a spitting headache.

He groaned and shifted slightly on the cold kitchen floor. It felt like he had been out for hours, but with a quick check to the clock, he realized he was only unconscious for less than a minute.

He drew in a deep stabilizing breath and clutched at the screwdriver that had clattered away from his hands. Pain crackled through every nerve, and his legs refused to obey him. Using a chair as a crutch, he hauled himself up with some difficulty, temporarily disoriented.

Realization dumped over him like ice water. He startled to awareness and looked at his hands, praying that his experiment had worked.

An almost invisible sheen outlined his body. It couldn't be seen except when he moved, then it had almost liquid-like qualities, shimmering in the cold January sunlight like a ghost. A perfect perception filter.

It worked. He was ready. The Doctor felt a primal anger stab through his hearts. He pressed the button on the screwdriver to scan the phone to see from where Clara had called. He had the coordinates telepathically in seconds, and he burned them into his mind.

The Doctor shoved the screwdriver into his rope belt and yanked the door open. The icy air caught him almost immediately, but he didn't feel the cold. Hot vehemence surged through his veins. His face was an enraged scowl, eyebrows in full attack mode and teeth bared.

He growled lowly and hopped onto the balcony rail. He spread his wings. The dim light emitted by the windows of the complex enshrouded every feather. The black sparkled with a dangerous sheen like the darkness before a storm. The top-feathers were as black as death itself, highlighted by the thin rays of light filtering through the breaks between layers like lightening.

The blood-red of the underside seemed to be actively bleeding the crimson fluid. It flashed out like the hottest flame, and blared its colors with a warning like one that a venomous creature gives when it wants to frighten away its enemies.

The Doctor was an awesome sight. The furious angel, the fallen angel. His face looked as if it could breathe fire and his eyes were a storm. He clutched the balcony rail tightly like a dragon about to take off and made the mistake of looking down.

He was three stories up, and he didn't know how to fly. Momentary fear rocked him, but he immediately shoved it down.

_'I'm already dead. What's the worst that can happen?_ ' he resolved.

He steeled himself and prepared to jump. He could easily flounder down and irreversibly damage himself for all eternity on the icy concrete below.

"For Clara." he gritted out from behind clenched teeth, and jumped into the wind.

The wings turned out to be as functional as they were useful, and caught the air currents easily. He soared straight up, high above the building tops. He leveled out and found that he instinctively knew exactly what to do. He calculated the coordinates in his mind in the fraction of a second. Clara was eight streets down, behind the old abandoned Shelley's Department Store.

The Doctor drew his screwdriver from his belt and gripped it tightly in one hand in front of him like Superman. Light snow flurried around him and stuck to his eyebrows. The icy air bit through his thin layers. He watched the cars and people below briefly, milling about their way with absolutely no conception of the flying alien angel directly above them.

The Doctor brought his wings in closer to his body and dove like a falcon, letting gravity control him. He instantly arrived to the alley and could hear the clamor floating in the wind. Clara was arguing with Missy, and the Daleks were shouting. The Doctor immediately felt his mood brighten slightly at the sound of Clara's voice. They hadn't killed her yet.

He swooped down and aimed his screwdriver at a Dalek mercilessly. He pressed the button, and a sharp whirr emitted from the device. The Dalek screamed and fired in the air. The blast hit the bricks of the old building. Chunks of debris rained down on the horde. The damaged Dalek continued to scream and flail around in circles.

"SENSORY IMPUTS IMPAIRED! I CANNOT SEE, I CANNOT HEAR!" it shrieked, searching wildly with its blinded eyestalk.

By the time the other Daleks fully grasped what had happened to their comrade, the Doctor reared up and took out four more. The screwdriver had an extremely limited range, so he had to fly up to each individual, but a solid shot could completely disorientate a Dalek for a few minutes.

"UNDER ATTACK BY AN UNKNOWN! IDENTIFY YOURSELF! IDENTIFY! the Daleks demanded.

Clara and Missy were nearly shaken off their feet by a bumbling Dalek near them. They searched the sky frantically. Something invisible, something in the corner of their eyes was attacking the Dalek fleet.

Clara chased the figure in the corner of her eye, and there the Doctor flew in his full enraged glory. She could see him because she expected to see him there. Protecting her, as always.

"Doctor." she breathed, hope and surprise filling her mind. She could feel his presence, worry and relief flooding in, telling Clara to close her eyes and trust that he would always keep her safe.

She shut her eyes immediately, knowing that he would crash if she continued to look at his flying statue. The Doctor instantly reanimated to life and touched the blinded Daleks, sending them into the time vortex itself where the time winds would rip them to shreds. He wanted to send Missy back too, but found that she had some kind of time shield surrounding her, preventing any kind of space-time displacement.

Everything happened within thirty seconds, and nearly half the Daleks were wiped out when Missy finally took her umbrella and slammed the point into the ground like a staff.

"That's enough!" Missy shrieked, the sound causing everyone to jump. She immediately realized that the Doctor had put a perception filter on himself and saw straight through it once she knew what to look for. The Doctor froze into stone immediately and crashed violently into a Dalek.

Clara covered her mouth with her hands and bit back a sob. That had to have hurt. The Dalek now had a huge dent in its side leaking Dalek blood, and it screamed in agony. Clara knew how hard it was to damage a Dalek even with the best weapons. If the collision could do that to the heavily-armored Dalek, then what had it done to the Doctor?

Missy grinned triumphantly and twirled her umbrella once in victory. A small fire had started somewhere by a damaged Dalek, and the flames reflected dangerously in her dark eyes. She took the tip of her umbrella and prodded the statue, frozen in a fearsome grimace, the wings shimmering like a pool of blood in the firelight. The statue itself didn't seem to have any kind of damage, and she was mildly disappointed.

"Can't kill a stone." she smirked, annoyed.

"It's about time you showed up, Doctor. You're always late to the party."

Clara took advantage of the chaos and lunged for a piece of debris thrown from a nearby exploding Dalek. The metal was Dalekanium, stronger than any earth metal, and sharper than a knife, warped and twisted into a deadly triangular blade. Clara snatched it from the ground, still hot from the explosion and covered in grime.

She growled under her breath and steeled herself for what she was about to do. Clara was going to kill Missy. She was not a murderer, but her hatred for Missy shot through the roof when the Doctor crashed.

Missy had almost killed her with their last two encounters, and had successfully killed many others throughout her long crooked life. Now she was hurting her Doctor, and Clara felt something snap. Clara nearly killed Missy in the graveyards, and this time she would not hesitate to kill her again.

Clara aimed carefully, and threw the metal like a dart as hard as she could with a strength she didn't know she possessed right at Missy's exposed back.

The missile sliced through the air. Clara had aimed perfectly. In its current trajectory, the metal should impact directly into Missy's upper back, hopefully to sever her spinal cord and punch out both of her hearts.

Within a fraction of a second of hearing the projectile whistle through the air, Missy stabbed a button at the hilt of her umbrella. A sound much like one of the warbles the Tardis makes emitted from down the alley.

Inches from its target, the metal halted- frozen in the air. Missy turned around slowly and smirked at Clara proudly. "Not such a damsel in distress as I thought. You really are perfect, Clara." she encouraged with false kindness.

She shifted her gaze to the projectile, "Oh, now would you look at that." Missy gasped in mock surprise, staring down the sharp tip of the shrapnel. "That would have been a nasty hit. I know you're a feisty little thing, but you should be more careful with pointy things, Clara. You might put somebody's eye out someday." she tapped the air around the metal and it rippled like water at her touch.

"How?" Clara coughed. The throw had knocked the air out of her. The freezing air she was trying to breathe in burned and constricted her lungs. Anger and hopelessness stabbed through her, and she looked up at Missy through a fiery haze.

"Time Lock, dearie. Like a bubble of time, frozen in place while the time stream continues to flow around it." Missy explained, admiring her handiwork.

She reestablished eye contact with Clara and reached up. She plucked the metal from the air and weighed it in her hand. Missy smirked wickedly, her scarlet lipstick blurring with her sharp teeth. At the distance where Clara stood, the smile casted the illusion of a bloody set of teeth, ready to snap her up and tear her limb from limb. With that look, Clara knew Missy was done with playing games. She backed away slowly, nearly bumping into a Dalek behind her.

Missy examined the metal and felt the tip. "Dalekanium. Nice choice, Clara. I'd bet this would have taken out just about anything. And what an arm you've got on you, girl. I'm proud of you, sister." Missy smiled malevolently.

She dropped the metal and it clattered to the floor harmlessly, skidding into a small snowdrift against the wall.

"Seize her." Missy ordered the Daleks nonchalantly in an innocent voice.

The Daleks behind Clara instantly came to life, pointing their guns inches from her body. "PREPARE TO BE DETAINED, CLARA OSWALD." a Dalek announced.

Clara held her breath, not daring to move. A million emotions lanced through her mind. Joy that the Doctor had come, hatred for Missy, fear of the Daleks, sadness that the Doctor now laid helplessly as a statue on the pavement.

She choked back a sob at the onslaught and wondered briefly why the Doctor hadn't attacked Missy while she was talking to her. She must have him frozen in a time lock along with the Dalek he injured, she realized, suddenly aware of the absence of said Dalek's screams.

Missy turned back to the Doctor. She closed her eyes, pushed the button on her umbrella, and unfroze him from the time lock for a fraction of a second. She immediately pressed the button again and shot her eyes open. There the Doctor laid, in the flesh. He couldn't turn to stone within the lock, but he could see, feel, and hear everything in real time.

Clara gasped, finally able to properly see him. He physically looked almost exactly as he had before he turned into an angel. His skin was pink, his hair was silver again and soft-looking. His wings were even more beautiful in this stone-less reality, causing her to catch her breath at their sleek, dangerous beauty.

She studied his face and all the thoughts running rampant in her mind halted. His eyes. She had missed those eyes the most. They were an angry blue, swirling like a bottomless whirlpool into the fathomless darkness in his pupils. He looked alive, he was alive, and she could finally see him for the first time in over a year.

He was hunched over in the position of where he had crash-landed. He didn't seem to have any obvious injuries, but she could tell by the way his mind cried out to hers in the fraction of a second when he was released from the initial lock that he was in agony.

He was crumpled against the pavement, and the snow melted slowly beneath him. His wings were splayed out, casting a shadow over Missy, darkening her sharp cheekbones and the hollows of her eye sockets.

Missy crouched down to his level and grinned darkly. "That was a clever trick, Doctor, with the perception filter. You should have thought of that sooner."

He could hear her every word clearly. Pain lanced through every nerve in his body. He looked to Clara and would have gasped despite the pain if he could. Her eyes. He could see her eyes. They were wider than ever, the deep chocolate pools staring into and melting the ice in his soul.

For less than a second, they made eye contact, and he attempted to reach out for her in his mind. The time lock prevented this, so they just had to rely on reading the millions of emotions streaming through each other's eyes.

For once, he was grateful for Missy's actions. He was in pain, and probably defeated. Missy would probably have the Daleks attempt to kill them both. The situation was beyond grim, but the Doctor and Clara still felt the tiniest spark of hope stir within their three hearts.

Missy continued, looming above him as if she was about to crush him like an ant, "I'd bet you're in agony right now." she crooned in mock-pity, "But I do know you like being tied up like this." she smirked devilishly, and something dark flashed in her eyes, "Isn't that right, Clara, or haven't you gotten there yet?" she turned around and Clara merely stared back at her bewilderedly.

"Seriously? I could have come in at any time. I knew what happened to the Doctor the moment it happened. It was very sweet of him to sacrifice his life to you like that. Of course, he didn't think about how that would make me feel, did he? I was haunted by the shattering of the mental bond for days."

"We had kept that bond for centuries from when we ran together as children. That's why we have never been able to actually kill each other; the bond was still there. Looks like it took someone else to finally kill the Doctor for good. The moment he died, believe me, I knew about it."

Missy continued, frustrated, "I could have come after you immediately, Clara. I could have sent all of the Doctor's enemies raining down from hell onto you, but I didn't. I was nice. I set up all your little incidents, Clara. I sent the robber after you, I lit the gas in your apartment. I caused all of these things to bring you two closer together once again. I let you two have your little reunion while I watched. I decided to bide my time for a few days. I assumed that you two would have gotten it on by then."

Clara gaped and blushed furiously at Missy's implications, and although he was unable to show it, the Doctor was having the exact same reaction.

"When your little angel sent me back to the past after I finally showed up, I could have come back at any time. But I waited. I waited two weeks, and I applaud you on your progress. The Christmas dance was very impressive."

"You..." Clara was seething with rage, still bright red with a mixture of embarrassment and anger, "You saw all that?"

Missy nodded and winked suggestively. "But, I eventually got tired of waiting and decided to meet up with you today for a little chat. You two can be so violent sometimes. I didn't want to create a fuss. I just wanted to hold a civilized chat." she changed the subject.

She turned back to the Doctor, "I have a plan, Doctor. Do you wonder how I survived that shot from the Cyberman in the graveyard so long ago? Guess what, I didn't."

"I don't understand." Clara interjected.

"Oh, don't be thick, Clara! Think it through! I died and went to our friendly little angel heaven and saw many familiar faces. I admit, it was a shock to me too, and old Rassilon was as insufferable as ever." She nodded to the Doctor, "But they celebrated me there as soon as I devised my plan."

Missy cackled and danced as if she were divulging the deepest dirtiest secrets of the universe. "Do you remember the House, Doctor? The sentient asteroid that smells like armpits and eats Tardises? They sent me there, and it took me almost a year, but I built myself a Tardis. You should see her, she's a beauty. She has a few glitches now and then, and looks like the Frankenstein version of a Tardis on the inside, but she is powerful. Your Tardis belonged in a museum from before you were born. Most of the broken Tardises I borrowed from had many new settings to play with."

If he could, the Doctor's eyes would have widened. He looked to Clara, obviously just as surprised as he was. Missy's power had just increased exponentially now that she had a working Tardis. There wasn't much she couldn't do now, and the Doctor's last advantage over the Master disappeared.

"Using the heart of my new Tardis, an abandoned spirit wandering alone amongst the graveyards of her sisters, I rescued her, and used her time energy to revive myself. The time drain caused the House's pocket universe to collapse, and I barely escaped back into ours."

"I was battered, but I was alive. My wings vanished, and I was free." Missy smiled, gesturing with her hands.

"So then I got an idea." she crawled up to the Doctor until her nose was inches from his face. "If I could restore myself with one jury-rigged Tardis, then imagine what all we could restore with two Tardises. Your Tardis has an immense amount of time energy from all the traveling you do, and two opposite time machines colliding with each other should reset the flow of time. Time Lords are connected to the vortex in body and soul. A total vortex reboot should release enough time energy to save everyone. Imagine who we could restore." she said crazily with genuine excitement.

"Remember when I said that Gallifrey was in another dimension, but not lost? I wasn't kidding. The bomb you used to end the Time War was a crude, huge version of a dimensional shift bomb. When it blew, it destroyed the planet and all of its occupants- Daleks and Time Lords alike. It then reassembled them on another plane. It restored everything, except for the lives that were taken that day. An empty planet, remade to the finest detail, waiting to be repopulated."

Missy reached out and cupped his face through the time lock to establish a manual mind-meld, brushing her sharp fingernails over his cheekbones. She stared deep into his soul and telepathically made herself at home in his mind. The Doctor could do nothing but stare right back, a million emotions flashing by in his expressive eyes. Surprise, horror, and hope broadcasted clearly across the telepathic link.

"We can save Gallifrey, Doctor. You and I. The Time Lords can live again, and walk through the thick red grass once more." Missy finished, proud of herself.

"I just need your keys, and I need you to pilot your ship. I can take care of the rest. We can finally undo your mess, Doctor. What do you say?" Missy grinned convincingly.

The Doctor and Clara were beyond baffled. Clara's jaw had dropped so low, she was afraid that she would build up a snow drift in her mouth if she didn't close it soon.

The Doctor's brain worked on overtime trying to process the bombshells Missy had just dropped on him. His emotions and logic ran rampant, and even the searing pain from the crash was smothered by the clamor in his head.

Hope and distrust speared through his consciousness. He didn't think she was lying. The Master was, and always had been, a genius. Now she was asking him to join her side. Considering the possible rewards, the offer was extremely tempting.

But the Time War was a fixed point in time. Any kind of reset on that scale could disrupt the flow of the entire universe. Just restoring Missy shattered the pocket universe, what would restoring an entire race do to their universe? All of reality could crumble at their feet. The chance of success was extremely slim, and who was he to decide who lived and who died? He had made that call centuries ago, and regretted it every day of his life since.

And right there, hunched defeated between a Dalek and frozen pavement, he made the second hardest decision of his life. Missy unfroze him partially and closed her eyes, still restraining his limbs in the lock, to hear his reply.

"No." he grated out, so quietly that Missy could barely hear him. "It will shatter reality. Space and time will fracture, and every other inhabitant in the universe will die. I will not help you commit mass genocide, even if it's to save our own people."

Missy sighed in disapproval and rested her hands on her hips. "I had a feeling you'd say something like that, so I brought a few friends along," Missy smiled knowingly, nodding to the Daleks surrounding them silently.

"How did you manage to control the Daleks? You're a Time Lady. They should have killed you on the spot." The Doctor asked, hissing against the pain shooting through his muscles.

"Everyone has a price, Doctor." she grinned, withholding her secret gleefully. "You'll understand soon enough."

"Dalek sweeties, please escort Miss Clara to her chambers." Missy ordered suddenly to the remaining Daleks.

"What! No! No! Clara!" The Doctor called helplessly, straining against his bonds. "Do not hurt her! You want me, Missy! Let her go!" he growled menacingly.

Missy cocked her head to the side as if she was actually considering what he said. She snapped out of it and knelt to the Doctor's level to snarl inches from his face.

Something murderous and insane flashed in her eyes briefly, and the Doctor matched her gaze with equal hatred as a statue. Missy turned from him and twirled on the spot. "Oh, Doctor! You're always such a party pooper! Just let us have some fun! It's a girl's night out!"

"Where are you taking her?" he snapped at her turned back.

"Oh, don't worry, dear. I'll keep your darling Miss Clara company. She won't be all alone. I'll take good care of her, I promise." she smirked wickedly, making eye contact with Clara and widening the grin.

Clara felt a pit of fear settle in her stomach and siphon the air from her lungs. She swallowed thickly and braced herself. She had to be strong.

"Whatever she wants you to do, Doctor, don't do it! You said yourself that the universe is at stake! That's trillions of lives! Don't damn them all for this one! I'll be fine, Doctor, I know I will. Don't you dare!" Clara cried desperately.

"She will probably torture you and kill you, Clara! Please!" The Doctor pleaded, begging her to let him save her by doing as Missy asked.

"No, Doctor. You have saved me countless times already. Maybe it's my time to go. Let me go. Do as you are told." Clara sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I..." The Doctor struggled for words, forcing down the lump in his throat. He was going to lose her again, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

"I can't, Clara." he choked out quietly, "I need you. Let me save you. Please. I can't bear to lose you again." he hung his head against his restraints and his voice broke. He felt guilty for even thinking that he would sacrifice the entire universe to save Clara, but deep down he that he would do it without hesitation if the situation arose.

"Goodbye, Doctor." Clara whispered, stepping back into the Dalek line and bracing herself for impact.

Missy couldn't help smiling at her handiwork. "Aww, isn't this sweet? You two almost brought a tear to my eye. I almost don't want to send Clara to the Dalek Camps now. Almost."

Missy turned to the Daleks and raised her arms to the sky. "Transport."

"PREPARE THE FEMALE FOR TRANSPORT TO DALEK FACILITY! STAND BY!" the Daleks gathered around her, and a blue light surrounded them. The energy burned at her skin, hotter than any flame, and Clara could feel the transporter beam ripping her body and mind to shreds molecule by molecule. She screamed briefly before she was abruptly silenced.

"No!" The Doctor cried.

The light faded. Flurries began to cover her footprints left in the snow. The wind howled, and silence filled the air. Missy laughed, the Doctor cried.

Clara and the Daleks were gone.

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A/N: if you couldn't tell, I wrote this chapter in an hour lol. I am actually quite proud of this one. I seem to do a lot better at writing angst rather than fluff. Hunker down, because things are not going to be smooth for the Doctor and Clara for the next few chapters at least. ;) Review! Questions, comments, headcanons, criticism, hit me up lol.


	12. Never Alone

A/N: I AM SO SO SORRY FOR THE TWO WEEK WAIT, I WAS ON VACATION AND LITERALLY HAD NO FREE TIME. OMG OMG OMG THAT TRAILER THOUGH. That Whouffaldi hug absolutely killed me, and now that Whouffaldi looks like it's going to be canon, I think I might be sprinkling in extra fluff in future chapters. Lol that trailer literally made me so elated, that it was really hard to write this chapter. (You'll see what I mean as you read it) (Do you know how hard it is to write dark depressing scenes for your OTP right after a trailer like that?)

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Chapter 12: Never Alone

Something unbearably hot and surprisingly cold prodded Clara to consciousness. She groaned and stirred slightly. Everything ached, as if she had been temporarily sunburned, and something cold and flat was pressing up into her body beneath her.

Clara stirred slightly and bit back a gasp. Sharp pain arriving in pounding waves stabbed into her mind. Her skin felt as though was being eaten alive by ants, a side effect from the teleport, no doubt.

'Am I dead?' she winced, trying to asses her situation with her temporarily dulled senses.

Clara finally gathered up enough will-power to squint her eyes open, and well, at least she wasn't dead. Not yet. She appeared to be imprisoned in a dark, dismal cell with a rough stone floor and walls with questionable stains. The only source of light came from a single dirty lightbulb in the far corner of the cell, but it was enough for Clara to scope out her surroundings.

A heavy metal door with a sliding hatch to see through was the only interesting thing in the room. The cell itself was barely large enough even for Clara, measuring only about the size of a queen-sized bed in area.

The cell was completely bare save for a small empty bowl. The toilet, she assumed. There were barred windows on her left and right for communication with other prisoners, but both sides were dark and lifeless. Liquid stains of varying colors and viscosity crept from the walls, oozing slowly to drip onto dried puddles on the floor. One of the stains looked and smelled exactly like human blood, and Clara had to resist the urge to retch in disgust.

Clara leaned back against one of the cleaner stones that made up the wall and breathed in the stagnant air. A blaring headache raged in her mind, stifling any other coherent thoughts. She squeezed her eyes shut against the painful light. With a small whimper, she attempted to raise one of her hands to press against her aching temples, but found that her wrists were restrained with heavy Dalekanium chains.

"THE HUMAN FEMALE IS DETAINED!" a sharp mechanical voice echoed just outside of Clara's door.

Clara nearly jumped at the sudden voice and a pool of dread suddenly flooded her mind. Daleks. She was in a Dalek camp. She knew the evil mutated robots and their methods. They would certainly torture her and either kill her or convert her into a Dalek.

Clara's breathing picked up, but she dared not make a sound. She fruitlessly searched around the cell for the hundredth time for any kind of object that could serve as a weapon. Finding nothing, she eventually curled into a ball to appear as small as possible and hid in the corner. She sobbed softly and leaned against the coarse stone for support.

"This is it. I've finally done it. I'm going to die here, and God knows what will happen to the Doctor." she whispered, her silent tears slowly turning the fine grime on the floor to thick mud.

"Oh, do cheer up, Miss Clara. We haven't even started yet."

Clara reluctantly peeked an eye open against the blinding sterile light flooding into her room from the open door. She put on her most frightening face, which was hard to do with the tears still streaming down her puffed up face. Clara growled threateningly and tensed herself under Missy's scrutinizing gaze.

"What have you done to him? Where is the Doctor?" Clara attempted to sound fierce in her tone, but her voice cracked halfway through to give away her true emotions.

Missy put on a fake sympathetic face and placed one hand over her hearts as if Clara's words had touched her. "Aw, aren't you two adorable, always searching for each other."

Missy huffed and swung her umbrella around her arm. "Ever since you left, all I've heard from your sweet Doctor is, 'Clara, Clara, where is Clara?' and threatening jibber-jabber. So, I came here to pay you a visit to escape his incessant demanding, and what do I get? The exact same thing from you. I should have seen this coming." Missy sighed and shook her head in false disappointment.

"Still," Missy grinned, suddenly kneeling to Clara's level and showing all of her teeth, "I'm not going to let that spoil my mood. I have a party to throw." she snickered, reaching out to touch Clara's cheek.

Clara recoiled and nearly bit Missy's fingers. "Get away from me! The Doctor will find me, and you'll be sorry! If you lay so much as a finger on me, he will make you wish you had stayed in hell."

Missy withdrew her hand just barely fast enough to escape Clara's snapping teeth. Her eyes widened in surprise briefly, but the evil smile quickly returned. "Oh, you are a feisty one alright. And a biter." she said thoughtfully, "I wonder if the Doctor has found that out by now."

Without giving her time to respond, Missy suddenly bolted up and stabbed at a button on her umbrella which Clara could have sworn wasn't there before. Bright orange lightning arced from the round Dalek orbs embedded in Clara's chains and snaked up her arms. The tendrils of light curled around her body, setting every nerve they touched on fire.

Clara screamed with a surprised yelp. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and gritted her teeth against unbearable pain. She strained against her restraints desperately and cried out over the crackling sound of the lightning searing her delicate skin.

The energy pierced beneath skin and muscle, traveling up her bones, illuminating her skeleton briefly, and shined through her teeth bared in a silent scream. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, and she found herself praying for unconsciousness or even death. This striking agony was even worse than the pain from her fatal wounds on Aluereygo XI.

Clara managed to open her eyes somehow, perhaps involuntarily. Even through her blurry haze, she could not miss the way the bright orange arcs of savage energy danced manically in Missy's sadistic eyes like hellfire.

Just as suddenly as the onslaught had begun, it was over. Missy released the button with a satisfied smirk and twirled her umbrella daintily.

Clara collapsed with all her weight, her small body limp against the wall and the floor. Rivulets of blood streamed slowly like tears from the corners of her eyes, leaked from beneath her nails, and bubbled liberally from her mouth.

She choked on the blood in a silent sob, coughing forth a copious spray of the scarlet liquid to spatter on the stained walls. She could feel streams of the warm fluid racing down the contours of her face, traveling down her neck, and flowing down her outstretched arms, dripping to join the dark mud on the floor. Angry red scars had branded themselves into her soft skin, forming vermillion patterns not unlike the cracks in a pane of shattered glass. The stifling pain was nearly intolerable, and it was all Clara could do to gasp out strangled sobs against the searing waves.

"Oh, you're making such a mess, dearie. It'll take me forever to get this place clean." Missy whined, kicking dirt over the pool of blood on the floor and into Clara's face.

Clara sputtered and spat out the dirt weakly with another spray of blood. She groaned faintly and felt her mind reeling. She used up almost all the rest of her strength to call out to the Doctor through their telepathic bond. They could be a hundred miles, or a million light-years apart, but Clara knew, no matter where he could be, that he would always be able to hear her cry.

"Do you remember your encounter with my lipstick zapper on Christmas Day?" Missy announced, but almost as if she were talking to herself as she admired her new toy, "Well this is the big daddy version of that."

Missy showed off the new button on her umbrella, tilting it in the sharp light, "There are no freezing or hibernation effects for this bad boy. It takes no prisoners. That blast should have killed you on the spot, but I wanted to prove a theory." Missy cooed, gazing at Clara's crumpled form with mock pity.

"What...theory?" Clara gasped out quietly and with great effort. Her voice was rough and cracked, and her breathing was labored against her scarred ribcage. It was all she could do to refrain from passing out. She wasn't going to show weakness to Missy. To her last breath, she would fight. She swallowed her pain and braced her less injured arm against the rough stone floor for support.

"See? Just look at you. What a trooper you are!" Missy beamed at Clara patronizingly. "You should be as dead as a fish on a slab, but look at you go, still flopping about without even losing consciousness. I'm proud of you, girl."

Missy kneeled to Clara's level again, carefully avoiding the muddy pools of blood lest she ruin her newly tailored dress. She crooked a gnarled finger beneath Clara's chin and lifted her face roughly to make direct eye contact with her.

Clara made a face and let out a small groan, but other than that she no longer had the strength to fight back. "You see," Missy explained, "I had a hunch that the Doctor's so-called 'sacrificial' act for you had to have changed you somehow. He poured his entire life and soul into yours, fusing his DNA together with yours- saving you and killing him."

Missy eyed Clara up and down critically, "However, that is a Timelord consciousness you have bumbling around in your tiny human brain. Your head should implode from the weight of the knowledge of time and space. He has tried to do this before, with some sassy ginger-haired woman, and human-Timelord hybrids just don't work."

Missy leaned forward, so close that Clara could have head-butted her to hopefully knock the Master out, but at this point, Clara was content to use all of her strength to will herself to keep breathing against the agony tearing her limb from limb.

Missy hissed and continued, glaring deep into Clara's pained eyes as if she could find an answer there. "So, what's the deal with you? What's so special about you, Clara? Why don't you just die? How can you even reach into my mind, how can you tolerate these levels of Sikron Energy?" Missy wondered aloud.

"Anyway!" Missy suddenly announced, shooting up and leaning against the doorframe, "I hope you enjoyed this visit as much as I did, Clara, dear," she looked at her bare wrist as if reading the time on a watch, "But oh, look at the time. I think it's the Doctor's turn now."

She smiled widely with her needle-sharp teeth, "Goodbye, sweetie. It's been a pleasure. It's going to be so fun breaking you, Clara."

Missy stepped out into the corridor, slamming the door shut with a heavy metallic clang, and sliding the viewing hatch open. She chuckled crazily and called out, "See ya!", in a sing-song voice before slamming the hatch shut and leaving Clara in the stagnant dimness of the cell.

When she could no longer hear the clacking of Missy's heels against the metal floors, Clara breathed out a sigh of relief. She slumped against the rough stone and could feel the soft embrace of unconsciousness enveloping her.

She continued to cough out blood, but the flow had mostly stopped for now. She wiped the now sticky red fluid from her face and dropped her arms in exhaustion. Her chains clattered loudly against the floor and she groaned.

Clara edged away from the raunchy-smelling mud as best she could and curled up into a fetal position. Missy would surely be back tomorrow, or even earlier, to torture her further. The pain had subsided slightly, but Clara couldn't tell if that was due to her body getting used to it, or by her numb mind slipping into the abyss. She licked her lips with thirst, and her stomach complained loudly. She hadn't eaten or had anything to drink since lunch yesterday at school.

_'Clara?'_  a soft voice called in the back of her mind.

_'Doctor?'_  Clara weakly replied. She could feel him light up temporarily that she was still alive, but then sink almost immediately once he realized her condition. She could feel his shock in her mind, followed quickly by sadness, guilt, and finally rage.

_'Oh, Clara. My Clara. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.'_  he reached out for her, wrapping his glowing yellow tendrils comfortingly around her dimming consciousness _. 'I should have had a plan against Missy. I knew that she would pull something big like this, but I swore to protect you, and now you are trapped here because of my failure.'_

Clara telepathically leaned into the embrace. It felt like he was there, holding her tightly against his chest while she nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder. She whimpered softly in response, and the broadcast of pain and hopelessness she was sending out through her mind was almost too much for the Doctor to bear.

_'Let me ease your pain, Clara. Please. You need to sleep._ ' He couldn't physically protect her from whatever Missy or the Daleks had in mind for the days to come, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let her suffer it alone. The Doctor completely encompassed her in his soft tentative hug, guarding her against her own body.

Clara was too tired to carry on a conversation with him, especially telepathically, but she broadcasted her permission, and the Doctor immediately lifted most of the agony from her body and into his. He gasped in shock, and Clara could feel his mind crying out briefly against the new pain before he silenced it from her. He curled his soul around hers once again, desperately holding on, his golden light pulsating softly with the odd erratic flicker as her pain coursed through him.

Clara beamed at the Doctor in weary gratitude and wrapped herself back around him, her own gentle light glowing significantly brighter. Their souls fit perfectly like missing puzzle pieces, and they shared the pain together.

Soon, the levels were tolerable for both, and Clara allowed herself to finally begin to drift to unconsciousness in his safety. She had no idea where he was and what state he was in, and she was still lying shackled against the wall in a Dalek Camp where her days were surely numbered, but nevertheless, she knew that they could never be separated.

The Doctor and Clara were bonded for life, and neither pain, nor death, nor distance could ever truly force them apart. As long as their souls would carry on, long after the universe meets its end, they would never be alone.

And in that dark bloody cell, in the minds of the Impossible Girl and the Impossible Man, the two soulmates both drifted off into sleep, knowing that if Missy didn't get what she wanted, the next day to come could very well be their last.

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A/N: Oh, I have a bit of fanart on my tumblr page, the-immortal-redshirt, , if you would like to see it. It's not great because I don't know how to use digital drawing programs, so it's old school pen and paper. However, hopefully it can give you a good idea as to what the Doctor looks like with his wings and robe and such. Again, I'm so sorry for the long wait. I'll try to keep it at least weekly, but no promises. The next few chapters are going to be rough for our favorite couple, so buckle up. I love all of you guys who have stuck with this story since the beginning, and please review! It's always an honor to write for such amazing people! :D


	13. The Punishment

Chapter 13: The Punishment

"Why, hello there, dear. I hope I'm not too late for my doctor's appointment. I've got a blazing headache." Missy swooned, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead mockingly with a false pained expression.

The Doctor stirred from his half-frozen half-asleep daze as best he could against the time locks and growled. Missy had left him there all night, trapped between a dying Dalek and the freezing snow where she knew he would be able to witness and feel much of Clara's torture.

Hot fresh anger coursed through his veins as he recognized the figure before him. Suddenly forgetting the cold and the sharp icicles dangling from his nose and wings, the Doctor snarled menacingly at Missy's turned face.

"You didn't have to torture her! It's me you want!" he bared his teeth and lunged at Missy as far as he could against the invisible restraints. Many icicles became dislodged from their holds on his body and were thrown roughly to the ice-packed ground, shattering into tiny glinting shards like miniature daggers of glass. "Take me! Torture me! You don't even need her. Let Clara go!" he shouted venomously, his snowflake-covered eyebrows in full rage mode.

"Let her go?" Missy gasped in mock surprise, ignoring the pissed Time Lord's threats. She placed a hand over her hearts gingerly and crooned sweetly, "Oh, but my dear Doctor, I do need her. She holds your leash, and if I hold her, you have no choice but to follow after her like some mangy hound." Missy snickered.

She twirled her favorite umbrella around the crook of her arm and continued with a balanced tone, "Clara Oswald is the only being in the universe who can control you. If I control her, I control you." Missy smirked at her own twisted logic, though the Doctor knew it did have some truth to it.

"So what do you want?" he grated out, his voice dipping dangerously low with pure fury. Adrenaline set his every muscle on alert, and he knew that he was more than capable of tearing Missy limb from limb without hesitation had he not been restrained. He could still sense Clara in the back of his mind, sleeping fitfully. In shallow bursts, he could feel her pain sporadically arching through his nerves, only fueling his anger further.

"I need you to trust me, Doctor." Missy declared darkly, dropping all silliness from her tone.

"Why should I ever trust you?" he seethed, unconsciously pulling so hard at the time locks that he was sure bruises had found their way up his body by now.

"Because the two Tardises must be piloted with exact precision. I can only pilot one at a time. You must give me a key to your Tardis so I can turn off the telepathic anti-angel field for you." Missy said with a shrug as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, uncaringly studying her perfectly manicured nails.

The Doctor considered her proposal and its intentions cautiously for a moment before sighing and lowering the pitch of his voice to a saddened baritone. "No. I will not help you end countless innocent lives. Not again. Not for Clara. Not for Gallifrey." he said forcefully, but not without a sharp pang to his hearts. Clara would never let him do something like ending the universe by strangling the flow of time just to save her. Missy or the Daleks will probably kill her within the week anyway, whether or not he does what Missy wants.

But every pang of agony, every ounce of fear that Clara felt fighting her nightmares as she slept in that cramped cell, and every fleeting emotion in her mind amplified itself tenfold in his hearts. He ached to rescue her. To gather her in his arms and fly her out of this hell. He couldn't just let her die.

Perhaps that is why Missy picked Clara when she gave her his number. Perhaps that is why she made sure they stayed together through thick and thin. Missy knew that Clara would be perfect for him, and that they would bond strongly together. Had Clara just been leverage all this time? Had Missy only selected her to use her someday to get to him? She would, the Doctor reasoned.

_'But if I have to pilot my own Tardis, then what would prevent me from flying off and saving her?'_  he suddenly realized.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear about that, dear." She cooed, snapping him out of his train of thought, "You always were so negative. Looks like I'll just have to persuade you." Missy said in a huff, lifting her wrist to speak through a communication device built into her watch. "Dalek sweeties-"

"No! No, that won't be necessary." the Doctor shouted, cutting Missy off. "I'll do it! I'll do it! If you lay a finger on Clara, I will not help you."

Missy raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise, but the look quickly melted into a victorious toothy grin. She lowered the watch and placed the hand on her hip coyly. "Well, I'd say that was quite an abrupt mood swing. I didn't think it would be that easy to get to you, Doctor. I should have kidnapped Clara ages ago."

The Doctor growled lowly, but refrained from saying anything that would provide her with boasting ammunition.

"Where are the keys, Doctor?" Missy asked, and he felt as if he were about to sell the devil itself his very soul. Missy could just break in and steal the Tardis. Maybe she didn't really care to save the Time Lords. Maybe this was just an elaborate ruse to steal the very last possession he owned from home to amplify her power.

Or she could be telling the truth. Surely she knew that he would try to run off once he gained access to the Tardis. Missy was definitely bananas, but not an idiot. There must be some kind of catch involved.

But he had to take that risk. He promised to Clara that he would never let her die under his protection ever again. Missy may break his promise, but he sure as hell was not going down without a fight. He was not going to let Clara go that easily. He was going to try to protect her until the very end.

"Clara's apartment. Second floor. Under a tear in the carpet in the back left corner of her closet. Can't miss it." he mumbled out, regretting his decision immediately. If he had misjudged Missy's intentions, then the whole of time and space was at risk. With two Tardises, who knows what she could do?

Missy was slightly taken aback for a moment that he had actually told her. She grinned widely and pecked his cheek, leaving a blood-red lipstick stain on his face like a bruise. "Thank you, dear. You've been so cooperative. Be back in a tick!"

Missy giggled and skipped away down the alley, leaving the Doctor to wonder briefly how she didn't slip on the ice wearing those heels. He hoped she would. A twisted ankle or a fractured skull would not be unwelcome at this point, if not satisfactory. He grumbled in disgust, desperately trying to rub the lipstick stain from his face with the rough fabric covering his shoulder.

Missy returned nearly twenty minutes later, brandishing the small key triumphantly to glint in the winter sunlight. "I never imagined it would be so ordinary-looking." she grinned, turning it around in her hand. "You really are one for minimalism these days."

She flicked it in the air like a coin and caught it deftly, shoving it into her pocket. "Well, Doctor, she's all yours. I've turned off the anti-angel field."

Now it was the Doctor's eyes that widened in surprise. She hadn't tried to run off with his Tardis. Hope began to course through his veins as he imagined all the things he could now do with the console back under his hands. He forced his face into a neutral scowl to avoid betraying his true emotions.

"Now, you've got to promise me you'll behave." Missy wagged a finger at him as if he were a dog, "No running off, no tricks. I'm going to release you from the time locks and escort you to your Tardis. If you try anything, my watch is integrated into my nervous system and will immediately order the Daleks to kill Miss Clara if you so much as touch me."

The Doctor grunted in acknowledgement, nodding slowly. Missy raised the cane of her umbrella and pressed an orange button. The Doctor immediately felt the invisible weight dissolve from his limbs. He attempted to stretch, trying to gain purchase on the slippery pavement with numbed legs.

Unfortunately, the damaged Dalek was released as well.

Reanimated, the Dalek screamed in agony from its wounds where the Doctor had crashed into its side, flailing around desperately. It locked eyes with Missy, staring deep into the soul of its new leader with a large pleading eye.

"Help...me..." it croaked out pathetically, hoping that its master would take pity and save its life. Blue Dalek blood spilled out to darken the snow around the robot and the Doctor as it continued to scream.

"Sorry, dear." Missy wore her best sympathetic face, zapping the poor Dalek with the same energy she had used on Clara the day before. The familiar bright orange lightning arced from the tip of the umbrella and lanced into the Dalek's damaged armor. The unforgiving bolts curled around its metal body in jagged electrical branches while the Dalek shrieked in surprised agony. The snow that had sneaked into the chinks of the metal overnight melted instantly, dripping to the reflective ice below with sizzling hisses.

"MERCYYYY!" the Dalek begged, uselessly attempting to fend off the attack with its plunger-like appendage.

Missy merely smirked in sadistic glee, "Oh, I just love the sound of that word, don't you, Doctor?"

The Doctor continued to stare wide-eyed at Missy's absolutely merciless torture of the Dalek merely a few meters away from him. He had been wise enough to shuffle back to the wall to create distance between them before Missy had launched her attack, otherwise he might be facing the same fate as the unfortunate Dalek. Bearing witness to her cruelty, he never thought that he would ever feel sorry for a Dalek.

Missy increased the voltage cruelly. The Dalek screamed horribly one last time before its bright eyestalk finally darkened and lulled downwards. The agonized screaming halted abruptly, filling the air with a stark silence except for the lingering electric crackle in the air.

Missy released the button, and the onslaught stopped. Smoke billowed from the hole in the Dalek's side. The smell of burnt flesh and melted plastic permeated the air. Thin azure blood ran in rivulets down the hot metal and formed rivers in the cracks of the cobblestone pavement to run slowly down the alley.

"Well, that was annoying." Missy complained nonchalantly, returning the umbrella to the crook of her elbow as if nothing had happened. "Get up, Doctor. Let's go." she beckoned him.

The Doctor rose to his feet and followed behind her down the alley, taking a moment to glance back at the murdered Dalek. He sighed heavily in the frosty air and stared at Missy's back. He clenched and unclenched his fists, barely preventing himself from ripping her apart. He longed to reach out and send her so far into the future that any alarm sent to the Daleks would arrive centuries too late, but she still appeared to be covered in that nearly-invisible shimmer which prevented all kinds of time displacement.

He grumbled inwardly. She had thought of everything down to the last detail, and it frustrated him to no end that he still hadn't been able to gain the upper hand once since their encounter. He was stumped, and was now left with no choice but to follow behind his master like a trotting dog.

Having successfully tuned out Missy's annoying humming, the Doctor was struck with a sudden terrifying thought as they approached the bend to the alley where the Tardis stood. What if Missy hadn't turned off the field and was leading him here to be frozen for all time under the gaze of the Tardis? Then he and Clara would truly be helpless, and he could only pray that her evil intentions to use him to reset the flow of time were sincere.

They rounded the bend, and thankfully Missy had been true to her word.

The Doctor laid eyes on his beloved Tardis for the first time in over a year. Her paint had chipped off badly in many places, graffiti and mud were spattered across the wood, and many of the windows were now either cracked or missing. The interior was dark, one of the doors had begun to come off its hinges, and soggy litter beneath the dirty ice was piled up by the corners.

The Doctor choked back a small sob of happiness to see her and sadness for her state of disrepair. She had been left alone for centuries before and had never allowed herself to end up like this. After the death of her beloved thief, the ancient ship finally gave up, gradually decaying while she grieved for all eternity. Even with Clara working hard to maintain the old time machine throughout the past year, nature had eventually taken its course on the old box.

The Tardis suddenly noticed her thief, standing there before her, unfrozen in her sight. At least she had known he was alive when he contacted her mind a few weeks ago, but actually seeing her beloved Timelord again, in the flesh, was almost too much to bear. It was true. He really was alive. Unbridled happiness filled the old ship once more, and the light on the top flickered to life brightly. A joyful series of chirps and whirrs emanated from the broken windows as she flooded his mind with her presence.

"Hello, old girl." The Doctor beamed, stroking the faded wood affectionately. He could feel her dancing in his mind, bathing him in a year's-worth of love and sorrow. She flung open her doors and practically swallowed him up when he stepped inside, slamming the doors in Missy's face.

Missy huffed at the doors. "Rude…" she mumbled, pursing her lips and placing her hands on her hips, "No, 'thank you for turning off the telepathic field, Missy'? Humph." she twirled her umbrella a bit more forcefully than usual in agitation and made her way back to her own Tardis.

The Doctor ran up to the dark console, nearly tripping over something in his rush to get everything ready in order to escape from Missy and rescue Clara. In quick succession, he flipped the lights and environmental controls on. The dusty console shuddered to life, the ship whirring contentedly. The rotors began to spin once more after a long metallic shriek, and the Tardis groaned. She was a little rusty, but more than ready to jump into the stars once again.

The Doctor threw the lever, and there it was. That groaning, wheezing sound the Tardis made that he realized he had missed dearly. The ship dematerialized out of the alley, sending snow and litter flying everywhere.

The Tardis entered the Time Vortex and stabilized. "Looks like you haven't given up on me yet, old girl." The Doctor smiled and patted the console affectionately. He stretched out his wings, still sore from the time locks. He froze, suddenly noticing what he had nearly tripped on earlier.

His jacket. His old crombie with the red lining- the one he had bundled up Clara in on that fateful night- laid crumpled up on the floor in a heap. It was thoroughly saturated in blood, their blood- stiff with the dried liquid. A dried, flaky puddle of it surrounded the torn jacket, and copious splatters of the crimson fluid dotted the ground from his mad dash to the medbay that night. Little pits and potholes had formed in the floor as well from where the acid had sporadically dripped, most of them also caked with darkened blood.

Thankfully, the smell had long since gone, but the artifacts remained. The Doctor felt a lancing pang at the horrible memories those simple objects represented, and wondered briefly why the Tardis had never bothered to clean those up. She must have kept them there as a reminder. A somber memorial for her lost thief, and although she would never admit it, for Clara too.

The Doctor shook himself to scatter the darkening thoughts and memories threatening to suffocate his mind. He thrusted his fingers into the Tardis's telepathic goo, asking desperately,  _'Where is Clara? Take me to Clara._ ' Missy surely would have anticipated this move, and is probably already hot on his heels.

The Tardis groaned and shifted course for the Dalek Camps. Hopefully, he could materialize around Clara in her cell and whisk her off to safety. So far, there was no sign of Missy, and the Doctor was beginning to doubt his luck. The Tardis was taking much longer than usual to transport, probably due to her condition. After a few endless minutes, the Doctor glanced around and found a new change of clothes not-so-subtly draped over the leather chair.

"Oh, come on." he chuckled, smoothing down his tattered angel's gown, "The gown isn't that bad. It's quite comfortable, really."

The Tardis let out a long disapproving hum which could easily be translated as a huff of disgust.

"Fine." The Doctor rolled his eyes, hesitantly parting from the console in his anxiety to land. He was grateful for the momentary distraction and the promise of clean clothes. He threw off the old gown, tossing it down the stairs carelessly. He jumped into the fresh outfit and sighed contentedly, buckling the belt. "You have no idea how good it feels to wear pants again."

The Tardis chirped in amusement as if to say _, 'Why didn't you send Clara shopping for some when you while you were staying at her flat?'_

The Doctor's face blanked and he blinked slowly in realization _. 'I never thought_   _about that.'_  he admitted sheepishly, pulling on his favorite holey jumper. Two large additional holes had been hemmed in the back to accommodate for his new limbs. He stuffed his wings through the holes and zipped up his also-modified hoodie. He smiled in thanks, patting one of the banisters for his faithful ship's thoughtfulness. He slipped on a pair of socks and shoes and promised to himself to never take proper clothes for granted ever again.

He flew down the stairs, leaping for the console. He grabbed the screen and shook it slightly. "Come on, old girl, we're in a hurry."

A sudden crash lurched the Tardis roughly and tossed the Doctor violently across the room to slam against the railing. He gasped in pain, blinking against his swimming vision.

"Shields up! Shields up!" he shouted once the breath returned to his lungs. He winced, clutching his side where the unforgiving metal had impacted with his ribs.

_'The shields are up.'_

"What? Then how? I don't understand. Nothing should be able to get past those shields." he panted. Using the railing, he hauled himself up and made his way back to the console. He gripped it tightly, and another jerking crash slammed into the Tardis. The console sparked, and a small fire started somewhere. The entire ship groaned dangerously. The Tardis whirred in surprise and desperately attempted to right herself.

"Hello, dearie!" Missy's image flickered to life on the glitch if screen, her sicky-sweet voice permeating the depths of the Tardis. The Doctor froze into stone instantly under her piercing gaze. "Ooh, I like the outfit. It's a nice change from that ugly old night-dress." she snickered, biting her lip, "Did you really think that I'd just let you go? Silly Doctor." she cooed, carelessly throwing some unfamiliar lever on her console.

"No." Missy looked away and the Doctor sighed in despair, though he was mostly unsurprised. Of course Missy wouldn't just let him go. He had been stupid to even believe for one second that he was free. She had him on a leash, that was for sure, and now she was yanking it.

Another deafening blast sounded just before the Doctor was shaken off his feet again. In his fruitless attempts to keep his grip on the console, he nearly dislocated his shoulders with the force of his ship lurching around him. He shouted in a mixture of fear and pain, but his cries were easily drowned out by all the emergency alarms sounding across the ship at once. All kinds of colorful strobe lights blared in warning, and the Tardis found herself fighting for her life.

A fire had started down one of the corridors and had begun eating its way up to the control room. Smoke billowed from the hall and quickly filled the room. The Doctor frantically twisted dials and pulled levers, using every trick he knew to hold his ship together. "Extractor fans on! Delete the damaged sections! Hold together, old girl!" he ordered, raising his voice, hoarse from the smoke, above the sound of the blasting alarms and Missy's cackling laughter.

One of the doors flew open to reveal harsh outer space, and the Doctor could only be grateful that the atmospheric shell around the Tardis was still functioning against the unforgiving expanse of nothingness. Large yawning cracks suddenly split the metal floor apart with a horrible screeching groan as if an earthquake had ripped it in two.

The Tardis whirred and hummed laboredly, obviously in excruciating pain. The Doctor could feel her in his mind, screaming in agony. He continued to punch buttons and commands into the computer, but nothing was responding. "I'm trying my best!" he shouted, barely keeping his footing, "I'm so sorry!"

Suddenly, a thick purple smoke curled its way into the Tardis through the open door. It glowed as bright as the galaxies surrounding them, equally beautiful and dangerous. It swirled around the room, mingling with the fire's smoke, preparing to strike.

"Your old Tardis belonged in a museum from before you were born, Doctor! I possess the broken souls of a thousand Tardises, all young, advanced, and thirsty for conquest." Missy cackled hysterically, bracing herself against her console for support against her laughing fits.

"You seriously thought that you could just run away? Do you take me as an idiot, Doctor?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips and attempting to put on a pouting face between bouts of incredulous laughter.

"I think you need to be taught a lesson in obedience." Missy smirked evilly, pressing some unassuming button.

The Doctor felt a new presence in his mind. An enormous angry void, threatening to swallow both he and the Tardis up in its vastness. The purple smoke, the clumped-together haunted souls of the half-eaten Tardises from House's Asteroid, screamed at them all at once in their minds. The Tardis cried out, clawing at her thief's mind for support desperately.

The Doctor could only watch, petrified with awe, as the glowing smoke drew out the golden essence of the Tardis herself from within the console like poison from a wound. The Tardis fought back, using her bountiful time-energy to blast the smoke back. She curled around the control room like a whimsical serpent of light. The smoke recovered quickly and loomed over her. It flickered as if chuckling menacingly before it dived suddenly- piercing the Tardis's very soul.

The decrepit old ship was no match for the sheer viciousness of her younger opponent. She screamed in a shrill whirr, her golden light exploding everywhere. Any of the windows that still remained were blasted out with the shockwave of the collision of the two rival souls. The Tardis whirred jaggedly in wounded distress, desperately trying to fight back with anything she had.

The smoke pounced again, seizing the Tardis telepathically. It caught her in a crushing hold, squeezing the life out of her. The Doctor felt the battle raging on in his mind, and desperately tried to slam up blockades around his beloved ship's spirit. The smoke charged through every blockade like paper, and the Doctor had never felt more helpless in his life. The Tardis screamed in his mind for help as she was mercilessly beaten over and over again.

The console erupted with a loud wrenching roar, live wires dropped from the ceiling, spitting out harsh blue sparks. Fire snaked its way up the bookshelves, hungrily devouring everything in its path. Missy's sadistic laughter crackled out in broken segments across the ship. The doors blew off their hinges and into outer space. The Doctor was tossed deep into the depths of his ship, becoming pinned underneath a collapsed beam. A loud horrible screech of metal marked the death rattle of the beloved old time machine.

And the Doctor could only gaze in horror as his Tardis split in two. His cries and angry shouts were lost beneath the cacophony of the dying soul in his mind. The Doctor attempted to stand, his leg caught between a beam and the wall. His face contorted in agony. He pulled at his leg desperately. If only he could put the Tardis into siege mode, then they might have a fighting chance.

Hot adrenaline-fueled anger burned deep inside the Doctor. He yanked at his trapped foot, prepared to burst out, blast into the other Tardis, and strangle Missy. "Call it off!" he demanded angrily over the sounds of wrenching metal and blaring alarms. "She didn't do anything! You need both Tardises to reset the flow of time, remember? You can't just kill her, you still need her." The Doctor seethed, holding onto a groove in the wall for dear life as the ship split open around him.

Missy grinned widely and leaned back. "What was that thing that I mentioned before? Oh, yes." she crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. "Bananas!" She pressed a second button with a flourished twirl of her fingers and smirked knowingly.

A loud boom that followed was left unheard in the vacuum of space. The Doctor gasped in horror, the Tardis vanished from his mind, and Missy threw her head back in victory.

The Tardis was dead.


	14. Chapter 14: Rusted Locks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ok, ok. I know I’m a total lazy piece of trash to have not updated this story in nearly TWO YEARS. I really have no excuse lol. I did have to rewatch the entire 8th and 9th season of Doctor Who and reread this entire thing again before I could write again, but well, here we are. Now that season 9 has long since ended and such, I’ve decided that this story takes place somewhere in the time interval between “Last Christmas” and “Before the Flood.” I’m basically ignoring season 9 after that lol. Remember, this is an AU where Day of the Doctor never happened, Gallifrey was never saved. 
> 
> Anyway…I’m back! I have this entire story plotted out all the way to the very end. Do not expect fast updates, but I will aim for biweekly if I can. This will be finished. Enjoy! 

________________________________________  
Chapter 14: Rusted Locks  
________________________________________

 

The tiny Dalek cell was unremarkable in every respect save for the value of its prisoner. Dawn surfaced over the horizon of whatever planet Clara Oswald was now captive to, if it was a planet at all. 

The cell possessed no windows to the outside world, but recently Clara had grown accustomed to recognizing when new days began, no matter where she was in time and space. It was a new day, and her body knew it was time to wake up. 

Pitted stone bit into Clara's skin and the temperature suddenly seemed frigid. The haze of unconsciousness started to clear from Clara's mind. Hesitantly, her senses began to return. Smell came first, nearly shocking Clara out of her groggy stupor with the pungent odor of drying blood-- her blood. She gagged weakly, her tongue feeling like a plank of wood in her mouth, her chapped lips burning as they began to split. She licked her lips, tasting fresh blood.

Her hearing returned abruptly with a deafening ringing that finally roused Clara from the abyss. She gasped and clutched at her temples, the sound cutting through her skull like a blade. She squinted her eyes open, rubbing crusted blood from the corners. Even the dim light from the dirty bulb on the wall seemed too much for her. 

She squeezed her eyes shut tight again and curled into a ball. She reached out in her mind for The Doctor. His glow was still there, but it was paler than usual. She gave him a tentative nudge which elicited no response. Normally Clara would be worried, but in her current state of mind she brushed it off, assuming he was sleeping. 

Clara found purchase on the rough ground and managed to sit up, leaning against the wall for support. She took a deep breath and attempted to open her eyes again. Light stabbed into pupils and triggered a throbbing headache. She reached up to rub at her temples again, but refused to close her eyes. They finally focused on something—the empty bowl in the corner, and Clara was suddenly made aware of the fact that her throat had turned to sandpaper overnight and her skin was beginning to shrivel from severe dehydration. 

She looked at her skin again and a flood of memories shocked her addled mind. Missy. Missy had tortured her the previous night with some kind of electricity. Clara remembered the bright orange arcs searing crimson marks into her skin like cracks in a pane of glass. The marks looked more faded now, her skin a latticework of tender pink lines. She coughed several times, her lungs trying to expel the dust that had accumulated in her system overnight.

A loud clank shot Clara to attention. The shriek of a rusty metal door opening echoed down the corridor outside, and then there was a faint, familiar whirring, gradually increasing in volume as if it was approaching. 

Adrenaline spiked thorough Clara's system, her body instinctively moving into a more defensive position against the wall. 'Daleks.'

"WHAT VALUE DOES THE HUMAN FEMALE HOLD FOR US?" a metallic voice boomed down the corridor, "HUMANS ARE WEAK AND NOT SUITABLE FOR WORK IN THE DALEKANIUM MINES."

"THE HUMAN FEMALE KNOWN AS CLARA OSWALD IS AN ASSOCIATE OF THE DOCTOR'S," another voice grated out. 

"THEN SHE MUST BE EXTERMINATED."

"SHE IS AN ASSET TO THE DALEK EMPIRE. WE ARE UNDER ORDERS TO CONVERT HER AT THE MASTER'S COMMAND."

Clara's heart shot into her throat. As the voices came closer, she found herself scrabbling clammy hands against the dirty ground-- looking for anything she could use to defend herself. Convert her? Surely they didn't mean to convert her into a Dalek, did they? Clara tried to deny it as best she could, but deep down she knew it was a very real possibility. Why else had she been kept alive? The Daleks never take prisoners without a good reason. 

There was a loud screech as the latch to her cell disengaged from its rusty hold. Blinding white light flooded the room, and it was all Clara could do to raise a hand to shield her eyes and rise shakily from the floor. She leaned heavily against the wall and panted slightly with the effort, her damaged muscles screaming in protest. 

The two Daleks in the doorway were a stark contrast to the dinginess of the cell with their immaculate Dalekanium armor. They stared at her through piercing blue eyes, sizing her up. Clara steeled herself, refusing to break eye contact. 

"CLARA OSWALD, YOU WILL COME WITH US."

 

Clara's face did nothing to betray her true emotions. Her heart beat erratically in her chest and all the blood drained from her skull.

'This is it,' she thought, 'they're going to turn me into a Dalek.'

She swallowed a lump in her throat, refusing to cry, but the thought of those....creatures....turning her into one of them, a murderous hate-filled squid and packing her into a metal case was beyond overwhelming. 

The Daleks turned around and started down the long bright corridor, and without a word, Clara stumbled after them. Once out of the cell, Clara was finally able to see her prison. There were rows and rows of cells with numbers on the outside of thick metal doors and a small control panel for each one. Number 323, her cell. 

After a significant struggle, Clara was able to walk reliably with only a slight limp. Her legs kept seizing painfully, possibly a result of trace amounts of Sikron electricity escaping her body through her legs and into the floor. Her vision swam, her lungs burned with the air meant for a species other than her own. One of the Daleks moved around behind her, nearly pressing its deadly gun into her back-- wordlessly pressuring her to move faster. She looked down and focused only on putting one foot in front of the other. This seemed to help stem the rising nausea and give her some sense of orientation.

She walked with the Daleks for what seemed like hours until they came to a large room containing rows of suits hung on pegs against the walls. She almost didn't notice in time that the Dalek in front of her had stopped and nearly crashed into it. 

"YOU ARE TO PERFORM MANUAL LABOR IN THE DALEKANIUM MINES UNTIL FURTHER INSTRUCTION." 

Clara looked up in surprise and breathed a sigh of relief. They weren’t going to convert her just yet. She glanced at the suits displayed on the walls. They appeared to be plated with some kind of metal and were equipped with a helmet and a backpack-like oxygen tank. Most of them were obviously not made for humanoids. 

The two Daleks left the room, slamming the door shut behind them. There was a slight shuffling sound, and out of nowhere a creature appeared from behind a locker. And Clara noticed with wide-eyed curiosity that this creature was definitely not a Dalek. 

 

Clara's eyebrows shot up at the sight of the intruder. It was a humanoid alien; its head was roughly cone-shaped and it carried a glowing orb in one hand, but its most remarkable feature was the hundreds of small tentacles that dangled like spaghetti from where its mouth should have been. Clara had never seen one before, but somehow it still looked familiar. 

"Oods," she said, suddenly recognizing the alien from a picture she had seen once in the Tardis records, "You're an Ood."

The Ood nodded slightly, saying nothing. It browsed the armored suits on the wall before selecting one and presenting it to her. Clara took it hesitantly. 

"You must wear this to survive," the Ood said quietly, seeming to speak from the orb it held, "The atmosphere and temperatures outside are not suitable for members of the human species."

Clara nodded, still studying the strange new face before her. Despite its appearance, it almost seemed friendly. Like she could trust it. "What is your name? You have a name, don't you?" she whispered, not wanting to have to call a sentient creature "it."

"I am called Jomos." he said with the artificial voice, "Please put on your suit. There isn't much time."

Clara nodded and complied, slipping on the suit that was only slightly too big for her. "I am called Clara. There isn't much time...until what?" she asked.

Jomos pressed a button on the wall. “Your shift."

A door opened with a hiss of escaping air to reveal an equally beautiful and dangerous landscape outside. Clara gasped, and the Ood circled behind her to start the flow of oxygen into her helmet. The outside world appeared to be a comet or an asteroid, steel-grey, and dotted with outcroppings of jagged copper-colored rocks and deep craters. It seemed to be orbiting a large gas planet not unlike Jupiter, but it was larger and had thick swirling bands ranging in hues of color from aquamarine to deep indigo. The stars shining brilliantly from a nearby nebula bathed the asteroid in a dusky crimson light. 

Clara breathed deeply, grateful for the extra oxygen clearing some of the fuzz in her brain. The sight of this strange new world gave her hope with the fact that even in the darkest, dirtiest, most dismal of situations, not even the Daleks could silence beauty forever. She looked to the stars, almost expecting to see a certain blue box shooting by, coming to snatch her up and steal her away from this place. 

"Go." Jomos said, snapping Clara from her trace and pointing towards a structure about a hundred yards away. "Report to the Equipping Station. There you will receive your task and your equipment."

Clara squinted to locate the small station swimming in the haze and suddenly it seemed like it was a million miles away. The door behind her hissed shut, leaving her all alone in this vast alien expanse. She considered running away and hiding, but then she noticed several Dalek security camera drones hidden amongst the rocks-- sure to zap her into dust should she stray. Clara inhaled deeply and began the long trek to the station. 

Despite the constant influx of fresh oxygen, her suit was beginning to feel stuffy and hot. The humidity from her breath was causing the glass to fog up and suddenly she could hardly see at all. Clara knew there had to be some way to clear the fog, like a defrost button or something, but she couldn't figure it out. She stumbled blindly, doing her best to weave around the razor-sharp rocks jutting up at her from every direction. 

She was surprised at the glaring stupidity of the Daleks. The Doctor always made them seem like geniuses. “They can't even make proper suits or proper paths through these hell rocks,” she grumbled to herself.

The heat and humidity was coaxing her nausea to return with a vengeance. Clara refused to throw up while trapped in this dumb space suit. She had done that before in the past and it was....not pretty. 

After several long minutes, Clara finally stumbled to what she assumed was the entrance to the godforsaken equipping station. She narrowed her eyes, trying to read the sign above the set of thick metal doors which stood before her. She panted heavily in exertion, increasing the fog in her helmet. 

The doors slid open and she was quickly pulled inside by a pair of dark red alien hands. As soon as she heard the airlock doors close behind her, Clara tore off the helmet and gasped for air. The owner of the hands that had grabbed her snarled menacingly, dripping red juices from its mouth. A Zygon, Clara realized. It wore a thick Dalekanium collar around its neck with the numbers "487" stamped into the center-- a fellow slave. Clara wondered briefly if the collar had anything to do with preventing this Zygon from shapeshifting, a skill that could be a considerable advantage in a prison.

The Zygon took her helmet and pressed a few buttons on the inside, clearing the fog from the glass instantly. 

"Stick out your neck," it rasped, holding one of those thick collars, this one printed with the number "323." Clara thought about resisting but decided against it, reasoning that her best chance of survival would be to comply until she could come up with a proper plan to escape. The collar clasped around her neck with a loud snap. The weight of it immediately triggered her already sore muscles to scream at her in protest as the heavy metal bit into her skin. Clara swallowed thickly, trying to get used to her new confinement. 

"If you attempt to escape or remove your collar, you will be vaporized instantly," the Zygon said coldly. It secured her helmet to her suit once again and shoved a large gun-like piece of machinery into her arms. 

"This is your drill. You will go into the core of this asteroid and mine for Dalekanium until the whistle blows. Do not remove your helmet. Do not associate with other prisoners. Do not attempt to resist. If you do not meet your quota for more than three shifts, you will be incinerated."

The Zygon gave her one last look over its sucker-covered shoulder, entering in a code on a keypad. "Do you understand?" 

A door opened up to reveal a small rusted chamber with metal bars-- an elevator, perhaps. Clara nodded and stepped inside. The doors slammed shut behind her and suddenly it felt like the whole world was having a seizure. The elevator lurched and shook violently before finally coming loose from its corroded brakes and plummeted deep down to the asteroid's core. Clara screamed in surprise and gripped the bars for dear life. 

The elevator came to an abrupt screeching halt in pitch darkness. The little lights in Clara’s helmet were the only things she could see. She focused on the lights, trying to stop her head from spinning and force the bile back down her throat. The doors opened with an almost comical "ding!" and Clara found herself in the molten core of the prison. Whoever came up with the idea of hell must have been to this place, Clara thought. Pools of magma steamed in makeshift tanks and countless stalactites dangled precariously over Clara like teeth. She hugged the drill to her chest in unconscious nervousness. 

Clara was suddenly shoved hard in the small of her back and nearly lost her footing. She heard a familiar whirring and froze on the spot.

"MOVE." the Dalek ordered, shoving her with its gun again. 

Clara swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to cough to regain the air kicked from her lungs. She scrambled to her feet and joined a line of fellow alien slaves-- some species she recognized and some she did not. They leered at her with a mixture of curiosity and disgust, making Clara arrive at the uncomfortable realization that most of them had probably never seen a human before. 

Several checkpoints later, Clara found herself at the base of a mighty stalagmite. It just looked like a basic rock to Clara, but according to the scanner of a nearby slave, this particular stalagmite was the source of a bounty of Dalekanium. One by one they all switched on their drills and began boring deep into the rock. Clara fidgeted with her drill for several minutes, trying to figure out how it worked, until another slave turned it on for her. She wanted to thank the green-skinned alien, but it vanished from her sight as quickly as it came, lost in a nearby crowd. Clara pressed a button experimentally and a bright orange laser beam shot out, thankfully not hitting anything or anybody. She released a breath she didn't know she was holding and began slowly drilling into the rock, copying the others around her. 

After about an hour, Clara began to get the hang of it, but her arms were screaming in protest. The drill put out strong vibrations which shook her to the core and made her feel as if her heart was beating irregularly. The nausea was coming in waves and despite the heat-shield coating of her suit, the extreme temperatures outside were beginning to slowly cook her in her suit. Sweat seeped out from beneath her skin in rivulets. 

A mixture of dehydration, nausea, and exhaustion began to take their toll on Clara. She swayed where she stood, her vision swimming. At some point she vaguely remembered gasping for help, but she couldn't figure out how to turn on her helmet’s built-in communication device. Darkness crept up into her vision. Clara knew she was going to pass out. She fought it for as long as she could, not wanting to draw attention to herself, but her body wasn't giving her a choice. It was all Clara could do to shut off the drill and manage to crumple to the floor away from the drill-site. She heard the muffled shouts of other prisoners and the angry bellow of a Zygon guard. She saw the Zygon arrive in a streak of red and could vaguely make out the shape of a rifle in its hands.

"This human is weak!" the Zygon rasped, taking aim, "She is of no use to us!"

Clara weakly raised a hand in a feeble attempt to shield herself from certain death at this Zygon's hands. There was a flash of blue light and suddenly the Zygon was no more. 

"CLARA OSWALD IS A PRISONER OF VALUE TO THE DALEK EMPIRE. SHE IS NOT TO BE HARMED." 

Clara did not have the strength to look up, but there was no mistaking the distinct grating of a Dalek’s voice. She heard it leave and breathed a sigh of relief. A pair of strong arms suddenly cradled her under her shoulders and Clara noticed it was the green-skinned alien again. Clara did her best to focus her vision. Scales. It had scales. Was it a Silurian?

Clara collapsed into the arms. The blood pounding in her head clouded her vision. 

Everything went dark. 

 

..........................................................................................................................................

 

A mild stinging sensation from beneath her skin prodded Clara out of unconsciousness. She gasped suddenly, as if suddenly remembering how to breathe. She sat up abruptly, triggering a violent coughing fit. Stars burst in her eyes and Clara groaned. Blinking rapidly against the light, her vision slowly began to clear.

She was in her cell again, propped up against the wall. She looked down to her arm, the source of the stinging. A large hypodermic IV catheter was buried in the crook of her elbow, infusing her with some kind of fluid coming from two bags hooked above her on the wall. One of the fluids looked to be water but the other was a milky yellowish liquid. Clara didn't care what it was. All she knew was that she was out of the mines, alive, and that the nausea was gone. Her tongue was no longer dry as the Sahara desert, and her muscles were less sore. The scars on her skin were nearly gone now and she was grateful. 

She almost thought that she had hallucinated her entire little trip, but then she felt the thick metal collar around her neck. It had surely formed bruises by now--at least that's what it felt like. She rubbed her neck instinctively and decided that she would get used to it. She was just glad to be alone for once, even if it had to be in a tiny fetid cell. 

She tried looking for the presence of the Doctor in her mind again. His pale golden glow had not changed since this morning, still not moving and still not responding to Clara's touch. She decided to leave him alone, but she couldn't help feeling a sinking pit of dread forming in her stomach. She didn't know how and she didn't know why, but she got the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong. 

A loud metal screech reverberated down the hall and caused Clara to start. There was some kind of exchange of words among at least two Daleks, some faint whirring, and a heavy metal clang that Clara had come to recognize as the sound of a latch engaging. Clara froze, hearing new sounds from the previously deserted cell next to hers. It sounded like a Dalek, but why would a Dalek be an inmate in a Dalek prison?

"I SEE YOU." it spoke suddenly. Clara nearly shrieked but clasped a hand over her mouth to prevent it from escaping her lips. 

"I SEE INSIDE OF YOU." 

Clara raised an eyebrow. That was weird. Daleks didn’t normally speak like that. She didn't know where she found the courage, but she managed to clamber to her feet. She peered hesitantly through the barred window between her cell and her new neighbor's… and found herself standing face-to-face with a Dalek. 

"I KNOW WHO YOU ARE." it grated out. 

"Everybody does," Clara replied with a strange confidence she didn't know she possessed, "Every Dalek in this camp knows who I am."

"YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND. I KNOW YOU."

Clara shook her head in disbelief, her heart beating rapidly, "How could you--"

"I SEE THE DOCTOR INSIDE OF YOU. I RECOGNIZE YOUR SOUL. YOU ARE CLARA OSWALD."

"But I don't understand, how can you see my soul, how do you know--"

"YOU NAMED ME," it cut her off, "THE DOCTOR SHOWED ME HIS SOUL. I SEE IT IN YOU. I SEE INTO YOUR SOUL, CLARA OSWALD. I SEE BEAUTY, I SEE DANGER, I SEE A POWER WITHIN YOU THAT YOU CANNOT SEE."

The Dalek approached her, positioning its eyestalk just inches from her face with its unblinking mechanical eye. "YOU AND THE DOCTOR SAVED MY LIFE."

Clara's eyes widened in sudden realization. She found herself backing away from the wall, trying to absorb what incredible fortune she had just stumbled upon. An ally. She now had an ally. Somebody who knew her and presumably was on her side. She almost felt like laughing with a newfound sense of hope. 

"...Rusty?" she asked tentatively, still not believing her luck.

"CORRECT."


	15. Friends and Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry about the slightly longer wait lol. In my defense, at 6,600 words this chapter is about twice the length of most of my other ones. The shit hits the fan in chapter 16 lol just you wait. That one is also probably going to be really long. Enjoy!

________________________________________  
Chapter 15: Friends and Enemies  
________________________________________

Weeks passed. Every day Clara suited up, picked up her drill, and bored deeper and deeper into the asteroid's core. She had mastered this new skill after the first week and had no problem meeting her quota every shift. 

Every night, she returned to her cell for her daily infusion of water and what she assumed was an intravenous nutritional supplement. Of course she missed the concept of three meals a day, but at least she wasn't completely starving. Still, she was sure that she had lost several pounds by now. A few stubborn ribs began to poke through her skin and her cheekbones seemed a little sharper than they used to, at least Clara imagined they were. She hadn't seen a reflection of herself in over a month now. Clara chuckled to herself dryly with the realization that maybe now she could finally fit into her high school clothes again.

The situation could definitely be worse. She was actually quite surprised at the relative lack of cruelty from the Daleks. Perhaps they were still hanging on to the idea of converting her. 

Clara froze. No wonder they have been keeping her healthy. She shrugged it off. They had not converted her yet. Maybe they never will. Clara was just grateful for the comparatively mild treatment she has been receiving. She had been imprisoned with much crueler captors before, just never for so long. The Doctor had always come to save her.

Speaking of the Doctor, Clara tried to reach out to him every night during her nutritional infusion-- when her mind was strongest. At first, she assumed that her starved mind was currently too weak to maintain the psychic link between them, but she eventually came to the worrying realization that the Doctor simply was not responding. It was almost as if he was dormant. He must be frozen in Angel form, Clara concluded, but why for so long? Perhaps Missy turned on the Tardis's anti-Angel field again, she thought with a growing sense of dread. Whatever the reason, Clara knew there would be no rescue for her. She was on her own.

At least Missy had the decency to leave Clara alone for all these weeks. She still hadn't returned like she'd promised, and for that Clara was grateful. Even the Daleks didn't really bother her. In fact, Clara had hardly seen any since her first day in the mines. They seemed to leave their dirty work to the ever-present ever-watchful Zygon secret police that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. 

Clara surmised this because while they too were prisoners, the Zygons did enjoy privileges other species in the Camp did not. They were not required to work in the mines, instead using their shapeshifting abilities to monitor and regulate the other inmates. If a fellow inmate was suspected of trying to escape or organize an incursion, the Zygons would disguise themselves as one of their friends and verify the suspicions. Then the Daleks would come and take the prisoner away either to be interrogated further with torture, or to be exterminated.

With all of her basic needs met, Clara began to shift her focus. Every apparent weakness of the Camp, every slight imperfection in the security, was noted carefully. Long ago, The Doctor had taught Clara how to structure certain areas of her mind to store information like a filing cabinet. With nobody to trust, and nothing to write with that couldn't be discovered, Clara created her own secret place where she could pull up any scrap of information she needed at a moment's notice. Rusty had been helpful with information regarding the Camp itself; such as the fact that Dalek Camps were much more loosely guarded by actual Daleks than one would think, and that the entire camp was maintained by the Dalek hive mind. Meaning that if a door was opened somewhere or the security drones spotted something, the Daleks instantly knew about it.

After days of tedious memorizing and nightly meetings with Rusty, an escape plan slowly began to form. It was complicated, with lots of moving parts. One mistake at any point could cause the entire plan to unravel. Costing them their chance to freedom-- and possibly even their lives. 

“We’re going to need allies,” Clara whispered through the thick metal bars, “People we can trust.” 

Rusty whirred in disapproval. “WHAT ABOUT THE ZYGON POLICE? THEIR SPIES ARE EVERYWHERE. WE CAN TRUST NOBODY.”

Rusty closed the distance between them, pressing his eyestalk against the bars separating their cells. 

“WE MUST WORK ALONE.”

Clara shook her head. “No. This plan is multi-step. It must be synchronized with the utmost precision. We need more players.” she drew back from the bars slightly and smirked, “And besides. The Zygons are terrified of me.” The smirk became a grin. “They know that the Daleks will blast them into dust if they so much as lay one of their disgusting sucker-fingers on me.”

“And what’s better,” she giggled under her breath, “is that they think I’m weak. They’ll never suspect me, and if they do, they’ll be too scared to go near me.”

Clara slumped against the wall and gave her best impression of a near-death slave, complete with labored breathing and feeble movements. 

“All I have to do,” she gasped, pretending to be in mortal pain, “is keep up the act. As long as I still make my quota every day, and act half-dead, I won’t draw attention to myself. All the Zygons know is that I’m a prisoner of value. I doubt they know who I really am. Otherwise I would have been spied on from day one.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW YOU ARE NOT BEING SPIED ON? HOW CAN YOU DISTINGUISH FRIEND FROM ENEMY? IT IS IMPOSSIBLE.”

“Well, looks like we’re just going to have to risk it.” Clara beamed with a hope she knew she shouldn’t possess. But somewhere in her heart, she knew the plan would be successful. Call it premonition. Or prophecy. She knew.

………………………………………..............................................................................

Clara arrived to the dressing room early the next morning, making sure she was alone. She took a deep breath, scanning the room with eyes that did not reveal the nervousness behind them. Where was Jomos? Where was the Ood?

Clara had done some further research into the Ood species, conjured up from a long stored memory. They apparently communicated and operated through a shared psychic link and had the ability to create multiple mental links even with members of other species. Exactly what she needed. Half of her plan hinged on Jomos's support, assuming of course that her information was accurate and he wasn't a Zygon in disguise. 

"I am sorry, Miss Clara. I did not see you come in." Jomos appeared, speaking through the orb he carried. 

"It's alright, I'm early today." Clara swallowed thickly, knowing the risk in what she was about to ask.

"So you are." he replied, noticing the tension in the air. He suddenly put on as inquisitive a look as his strange face could allow. "Is there something on your mind, Miss Oswald? You seem troubled."

The Ood stepped closer and rested a hand against her arm in a comforting gesture. They had been speaking casually for the past few weeks, enough to build a comfortable level of mutual trust. Jomos looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and worry, "How may I assist you, Miss Oswald?"

"Well..." Clara started, suddenly unsure if she wanted to continue. She cleared her throat. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you." she forced out, noticing the absence of a numbered collar around Jomos's neck. He was the only prisoner in the Camp lacking one. Clara looked around the room, breathing a small sigh of relief when she saw no sign of a camera or surveillance drone in the room. 

She looked up into his eyes and took the hand around her arm in both of hers, knowing that if the Ood turned out to be a Zygon spy, this could be the last thing she would ever say. "Jomos, do you feel free?"

Jomos blinked and searched her eyes for an answer. "I do not understand."

"I mean here. Do you feel free here, working in a Dalek Camp? I read up on your species. Oods usually travel in "packs," not alone. Where's the rest of your group?" she asked, softly, hesitantly. 

Jomos was obviously taken aback, his eyes widening. "You do not mean to-"

"Answer the question, Jomos. Think about it. Think hard. Where are the other Oods?" she asked more firmly than she had intended.

"Dead." he whispered suddenly with an underlying tone of pain. "They are all dead."

Clara froze, a sinking feeling of guilt washing over her for forcing him to recall something so painful. "I'm sorry I-"

"To answer your question, Miss Oswald," he cut her off, "whether I feel free here or not is irrelevant. I have been enslaved here for decades now.”

“This asteroid used to be an Ood colony," he sighed. "Oh, it was so beautiful. My race lived here peacefully in the shadow of the Great Planet for eons.” 

There was a faraway look in his eyes that vanished as quickly as it appeared. His expression darkened. “About 30 years ago, a passing Dalek ship scanned our solar system and found this asteroid belt to be rich in Dalekanium. They slaughtered us like livestock."

Clara’s face paled in horror. Jomos took in a shaky breath, nearly collapsing onto a nearby bench with the weight of his past. “I used to be a scientist,” he choked out, “a geological surveyor for the colony to monitor the unstable core of the asteroid. The Daleks spared me, and me alone. I watched my entire family fall to the flames. The severance of so many mental links crippled me for life."

"Then the Daleks forced me into service. They needed me to show them the safest places to begin drilling without causing a catastrophic implosion. I tried to trick them. After two days of mining, a great sink hole tore open the earth and swallowed an entire legion of Daleks deep into the molten Dalekanium core of the asteroid. They tortured me for days, leaving me barely clinging to life. I did my best to fight against their will, but in my heart I knew that I did not have the courage to rise against them ever again."

"Since then, I have helped them create this horrible facility. See these buildings? They used to be part of the colony. This room we are standing in right now? A school. A school now devoid of children."

"The Daleks eventually regretted killing the Ood-- apparently we are useful as a species of slaves. They realized that the mining was too time-consuming and dangerous to waste Dalek manpower on, so they began taking prisoners. I watched the first slaves arrive. None of that original batch remains. Or any of the next batch, or of the one after that. The Daleks do not hesitate to exterminate those who become too weak to carry their burdens any longer. And I was powerless to do anything. Every day I would suit them up, knowing they did not have the strength left in them for one more day of labor, and I sent them off to the mines-- to their deaths."

"Of course, there have been a number of incursions. Plenty of attempts to escape were made, and some were almost successful. The Daleks then began targeting Zygon settlements, taking captive the most talented members and killing the rest. They trained them to become an elite group of spies, shapeshifting into the likeness of fellow inmates to gather information and stop any plan for an incursion before it could even be conceived."

Jomos's eyes widened suddenly, releasing pent-up tears to streak down his face. "The spies! Their eyes are everywhere! You are a spy!" he shrieked, alarmed. "Why else are you asking me these things? Why am telling you? Please do not report me! They will kill me! They will--"

Clara grabbed ahold of his face firmly. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused, searching. She found the entrance to Jomos's mind and broke in, causing them both to gasp. Clara pressed her forehead to his, tears forcing their way out of her eyes as she witnessed all he had just described like some horrible movie. She put the memories aside, speaking into Jomos's very soul. ‘I am not a spy, and neither are you. I am Clara Oswald. I am the Doctor's companion, his best friend, a defender of the weak.’  
‘I am not here to hurt you. I am human. Could a Zygon do this?’

‘No.’ Jomos breathed, shuddering in awe. There was something distinctly beautiful and dangerous about her mind. A ferocity and a gentleness-- a kind presence.  
‘You—‘ he choked out, ‘you have psychic abilities. A Zygon cannot form a mental connection with me, but neither can a human. How are you doing this? What are you?’ 

‘I am the Impossible Girl.’ her voice boomed in his mind like something wonderful and terrifying. Like a divine presence, almost as if she were a god. ‘You will listen to my question, and you will answer. Do you yearn to be free, Jomos? Do you wish to avenge the death of your kind?’

‘Yes.’ he answered breathlessly. ‘More than anything.’  
Clara released her hold on Jomos's temples and gently broke the connection. She locked eyes with the Ood and something wild and golden flashed deep within her pupils. "Then you will help me."

"With anything." Jomos panted, struggling to stay on his feet. He had never felt another presence so powerful, and he tried to place the emotion he found running so rampant in there-- the brilliant and treacherous one that threatened to drown out all else in its passion. 

Love, he realized. That feeling was love. A fierce, relentless love. And grief. She had lost somebody; someone she had loved with all that she is. Her soulmate. The Doctor.

Suddenly the Ood understood her plan all too clearly. He knew what must be done. 

"I am going to escape, rescue all the prisoners, and blow this place to hell, but I need your help."

"You need me to create mental links with every prisoner that passes through my doors to communicate the details of the plan." Jomos gasped.

Clara smiled. "Exactly. But not all of the prisoners, that's too risky. Just a select few. I will tell you exactly who after my shift today." 

She smirked knowingly. "The Daleks will find they have made the greatest mistake in keeping me healthy. They want to convert me into one of them," she chuckled to herself, "Oh they'll have my genius all right, just not in the way they intend." 

"Clara, I have seen many escape attempts rise and fall at this Camp over the years. What makes this plan different from the others?"

"Oh, you'll see. For I have a secret weapon. The ultimate ally in this place. If all goes according to plan, you will walk out of here a free Ood within an hour of all the events setting in motion. Trust me."

"I trust you. I trust you." Jomos affirmed. "When is this plan taking place?"  
"Soon. I just need a few more days to get all the players set."

A loud bell rang out across the Camp. It was time for the prisoners to wake up, suit up, and march to the drill-site to begin their shifts. 

Clara locked eyes with Jomos. 'Dry your tears. The others will be here soon. Speak nothing of this. All of our communications from here on out must be done telepathically. As you said, spies are everywhere.' she spoke directly into his mind from the new subtle link she had created there. 'I will give you more details as the pieces come together.'

Jomos nodded, drying the tears that had unconsciously streamed down his alien face. He found her suit and began to clasp the heavy garment securely to her body. After this, she would go out and find her select few for him to create the mental link with. Where the greatest risk in their mission lied, where anyone could be a Zygon spy and could not be verified otherwise. He hoped he wasn't suiting her up to go off to her death. 'Be careful, Clara.' he whispered across the link. 

'I will.' She locked eyes with him once again as he screwed her helmet into place. They shared a knowing glance-- exchanging a thousand works in a single look. Jomos started the flow of oxygen into her suit and punched the keys to release the airlock. Clara stepped outside into the harsh alien landscape and disappeared into the fog without another word.

..........................................................................................................................................

 

Clara received her drill, rode down the rickety elevator from hell, and began her shift. She eyed the Zygon guard to her left standing in its full sucker-pocked glory. She had to resist the urge to recoil in disgust. Maintaining her guise of sickly weakness, Clara hobbled over to the best spot, determined to meet her quota early today to leave her with time to carry out more pressing matters. 

She quickly fired up the drill and began boring deep into the rock. Other slaves joined her shortly after, and soon the mines were bustling with activity. There was no way the few Zygon guards could keep an eye on everyone, and the only Dalek surveillance camera Clara could see was pointing away from her. Perfect. What better place for a needle to hide than in the middle of a haystack?

Clara scanned the mines for a particular person. The Silurian. It didn't take her long to find the alien, being the only Silurian in the Camp. She didn't know why, but she had a feeling that the Silurian could be trusted, being a native of Earth, like herself.  
After a few hours, Clara loaded what Dalekanium ore she had mined into a cart for processing and slowly began to inch her way, stalagmite to stalagmite, over to where the Silurian was drilling. 

After an hour, she stood beside the alien. She inconspicuously switched on the microphone inside her helmet. "What's your name?" She asked, as quietly as possible. 

The Silurian straightened its back in acknowledgement of her question, aware of the watchful eyes potentially surrounding them. It eyed her suspiciously, searching her form for anything that might identify her as a Zygon, if she was one.

"I am not a Zygon, if that's what you're thinking." Clara whispered.

It believed her somehow. It turned away from her slightly, gluing its eyes to the drill it held. "I was once the communications officer of a human-led research ship. My name is almost unpronounceable to the human tongue, so the crew called me Malonyo. Malonyo Scaye. It means 'scale face' in my language." he replied in a hushed voice. He obviously had experience in speaking to fellow inmates without raising suspicions. 

"Have you been here long?" Clara asked.

"Two Earth-years," he responded gruffly, the crocodilian scales studding his face gave him a more fearsome appearance than he intended. Clara was not fazed. She knew the kindness that lay beneath that exterior. He had risked his life to help her on her first day here. 

"So you know a lot of the other prisoners here, yeah?" Clara asked boldly. 

The Silurian raised a scaly eyebrow at her, sifting through her words to find her true motive. He had seen her sneaking over to him over the course of the past hour. He knew her words carried more weight to them than mere small talk. "Why?" 

"Just answer the question." Clara pressed.

Malonyo gave her a look over, sizing her up. He narrowed his eyes. "I had a cellmate like you once," he answered, his tone stern. "His name was Xio, a native of the Nebulus Galaxy. A good man."

"He was bold, daring. He too saw how relatively lax security seemed to be around here and took the bait. He thought it would be all too easy to just walk out of here."

Malonyo's eyes darted to look over his shoulder. Clara's gaze followed. 

"You see that Zygon over there? Number 626? Well that suckerface somehow heard a rumor about Xio's plan and took the form of one of his closest friends, his most trusted confidant. He had been careful in whom he told, but it didn't matter. Someone ratted him out." 

Malonyo sighed and continued, "Xio didn't realize until too late that he had exposed his plans, not to his ally, but to a Zygon spy. He begged the Zygon to keep quiet and even tried to bribe it. Nothing worked. Later that night, I heard the heavy metal lock to his cell unlatch and I hid in the far corner of my cell, listening silently as two Daleks came into his cell."

"I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out as they tortured him for hours. I'll never get those screams out of my head. The Daleks demanded to know the extent of his plan and his other accomplices. He held up for half the night, but eventually they broke him. He gave up everything."

Malonyo’s expression darkened, his eyes clenched shut against the pain the memory brought. "Afterwards,” he whispered, “I heard nothing but Xio's garbled sobbing as he choked on his own blood. Then there was a blue flash, and I heard it no more."

He sighed and continued after a brief pause. "The next day, the Daleks rounded up Xio's accomplices and made the rest of us gather in the center of the mine to witness what would transpire next. The Daleks removed the collars of the damned and forced them to their knees. They charged them with conspiracy and sentenced them to death."

"Oh, they begged." Malonyo's aloof facade gave the slightest hint of cracking. "The damned begged and pleaded for their lives. The Daleks showed no mercy and made an example out of them. They were shot down, one by one, and their bodies were thrown into a pit for 'recycling.'"

The mask slipped back into its place with a scowl. "You ever wonder what they feed us? What's in that bag? People. Daleks occasionally feed off their victims; what else would they have as a food source around here? Every night, we stave off starvation with the liquid remains of less fortunate prisoners. Some of them died naturally, but the overwhelming majority were executed."

Malonyo gestured to Clara's horrified face, "You've been here a few weeks, but you don't look all that worse for the wear. Every other prisoner in this camp is emaciated. I'd say you've been getting a heartier dose. Enjoy your dinner."

He glared at Clara with an intensity that did little to conceal the hopelessness in his eyes. "If you've got any plan for an escape, forget it. I don't want to be nourished by your pretty corpse anytime soon."

Clara swallowed thickly, casting a side-eyed glance at the Zygon responsible, digesting Malonyo's words. 

"I would prefer death to rotting in here for all eternity. I have to try," she finally choked out.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart," Malonyo scoffed, "of course you won't rot in here. You'll rot in a Dalek case. They're keeping you healthy because they want to convert you. Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't already."

"I don't think you know who I am," Clara snapped in a harsh whisper, matching his gaze, "I have vital information that is keeping me alive. I am Clara Oswald. The Doctor's companion, his best friend--"

"Then why hasn't he rescued you?" Malonyo sniped.

"Because I have to rescue him!" she blurted out, angry tears trailing down her dirty face. "Something's wrong and I have to save him." 

"How do you know he hasn't simply abandoned you?" Malonyo huffed.

Clara rose up to her full height, anger flashing deep within her pupils. "How dare you. How dare you! That man gave his life-- his very soul-- to me! We are forever bound in mind and spirit. He is stuck as a Weeping Angel because of me! Banished and dead to the sight of all that live! He's in danger, and he needs my help. He's out there somewhere, frozen as a statue, and I have to save him." 

Clara narrowed her eyes, her body shaking with fury. "With or without you, I am going to escape this prison, and you will not stop me."

"The Doctor is dead? He's a Weeping Angel now?" Malonyo whispered, taken aback.

"Yes." Clara seethed. 

Malonyo scanned the room cautiously. It would be a miracle if their conversation had gone unnoticed. They seemed to be alone now without a Zygon or Dalek in sight.

"You see this?" Malonyo asked, pointing to a dial on the side of his drill. "This is an output adjuster."

"Why are you showing me this-"

"Because this laser drill is now a weapon. Powerful enough to kill the Zygons and maybe even the Daleks. I've figured out how to tamper with these drills to boost their output."

"You're going to help me?" Clara asked skeptically, not wanting to give herself false hope. 

"A friend of the Doctor's is a friend of mine. I owe him. He saved my colony centuries ago. If you say he needs our help, then you have my help. I have some connections."

Clara swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Not only did she now have the support of a veteran prisoner, she now had a potential arsenal of weapons. "Connections?" she inquired in a shaky voice, wanting all the details she could get.

"I know almost every creature in this camp. Prisoner, Zygon, and Dalek. I know who to trust and who to avoid. And who to kill. You see, the average lifespan of an inmate in this godforsaken camp is about six earth months, a year at most. Those who've been here awhile know that in order to survive we must band together. There is an intricate code language nearly all the prisoners know and speak. Neither the Zygons nor the Daleks have been able to crack it, and to betray the code is to forfeit your life. Mining accidents are so easy to stage." 

"And every seasoned miner in this cave knows how to convert these drills into weapons."

"So you're telling me that you've got an army?" Clara asked, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. 

"If you want one." Malonyo allowed the tiniest shadow of a grin to spread across his face-- proud of the work he had been doing for the past two years. "Just give the word, and I can have this whole cave lighting up in hellfire."

"Good, because I have a job for you." Clara said without a trace of nonsense in her voice.

"What, are you a commander now?" Malonyo chucked, secretly admiring her boldness. 

Clara shrugged, "Seems that I am now."

"Do you know Jomos?" she asked.

"The Ood?" Malonyo raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Because from now on you’ll be taking orders from him. I have a plan to get us all out of here, and it's different from any plan you've ever seen before. I have a secret weapon." Clara smirked.

"A secret weapon?" the Silurian asked in disbelief but with a definite undertone of mild curiosity. 

A deafening knoll echoed throughout the cavern. The end of the shift. All around them the other prisoners tallied their gains and loaded raw ore into carts while a small group of Daleks inspected their work. Once they were satisfied, the prisoners were dismissed, packed into the creaky elevators, and dumped into their cells for their daily infusions.

Clara and the Silurian exchanged a look and went their separate ways to avoid suspicion. Hope bubbled deep within her heart. The plan was falling into place seamlessly. Clara eyed the Zygon guard escorting her to her cell and smirked to herself. 

'Jomos?' she called across the link.

'Miss Oswald?' the Ood replied tentatively.

Clara's heart beat wildly in her chest. She couldn't believe it. The link took hold. It was somewhat difficult to maintain the link, but Clara had been practicing on honing her new telepathic skills. And now it was paying off. 'The player we are looking for is the Silurian called Malonyo Scaye,' she broadcasted as clearly as she could. 'Meet him tomorrow morning and establish a psychic link with him. Then wait for my command. He will know what to do.'

'Yes, Miss Oswald.' Jomos assured, 'I will do as you ask.'

'Good,' she nodded, 'Because this whole plan hinges on you. You're the fuse.'

'May I inquire for details beyond my role in this scheme?' Jomos asked, understandably curious.

'Sorry, I can't have any one player knowing the full extent of the plan.' she apologized. 'It's too risky. This way, if one of us gets caught, it's not a disaster.'

'I understand.'

Clara rounded the bend to her cell and broke the connection. The Zygon guard practically threw her into the squalid cell-- hooking her up to the waiting IV without a trace of carefulness-- missing the vein several times before finally hitting it. She winced, not with pain, but with the knowledge of the vileness that was about to be pumped into her body. She felt bile rising in her throat and suddenly the room was too warm and the Zygon's putrid stench was too much. 

The Zygon finished as quickly as possible and left the room with a snarl for good measure. The door bolted shut behind it and Clara sighed. Alone at last. She chose to ignore the milky contents of the fluid seeping into her veins-- pushing down her nausea. She managed to stand up successfully with only minor dizziness and clasped her hands around the bars that separated her cell from the rogue Dalek's. 

"Rusty?" she searched the darkened cell.

There was a rattle of chains and a soft blue glow as the Dalek's eye shone to life. It stared at her. Through her. "IS THE PLAN SET IN MOTION?" 

"Not yet." Clara admitted. "I need some more time to work out all the details. Maybe another few days."

"WE MUST NOT DELAY." Rusty said not in impatience but in wisdom. Like Malonyo, he too had been at this camp for a long time.

"I've got it all under control, trust me." she assured, hoping the facts would turn out as true as she claimed. 

"Got what under control, dearie?" Missy grinned, peeking through the hatch in the heavy cell door. 

Clara's heart dropped into her stomach. She scrambled away from the bars as if she had been burned. She attempted to speak, to come up with an excuse, but the words died in her throat.

"Making new friends, I see?" she crooned. "Well good. You'll need them now more than ever." She smirked knowingly to herself.

Clara steeled herself, clenching her fists. She was not about to let Missy take control of the situation. She strode over to the hatch and paused, standing face to face with the one she hated most in the universe. Missy feigned shock and put on her most offended face. 

"Well, aren't you going to let me in?" she pursed her lips, pouting. She grinned suddenly, exposing rows of perfectly white teeth. "Oh yeah!" she cackled to herself, "You can't!"

She took in a deep breath to quell her crazed laughter. "Do you like your cage, my dear? I picked it out." She gestured to the walls. "I just love the interior design." 

Clara clenched her fists tighter, her jagged nails digging sharply into her palms. "Well, looks like I'll be redecorating soon." she hissed, turning to swipe a finger through a layer of encrusted blood which coated parts of the dingy walls. She rubbed the crimson dust between her fingers thoughtfully. "What do you think of brain-matter grey?" 

"And how do you expect to do that, sweetie?" Missy snickered. 

Clara stood inches from Missy's face, staring deep into the madness which flashed within those pupils. "Why don't you open this door and find out?"

Missy's expression darkened, the eyeshadow which coated her half-lidded eyes defined the bones of her eye sockets. "Don't play with fire, Clara. I'm just here to tell a story, that's all." 

Missy snapped her fingers and a sudden electrical jolt from the collar around Clara's neck brought her to her knees. Clara yelped in surprised, but gave no other indication of pain. She clutched at the collar, bracing herself against a wall. Missy unlocked the door and strolled in, daintily stepping over Clara's frame. 

"Oh, you're gonna love this story," Missy grinned, again showing the glimmer of sharp white teeth beneath her painted lips. "It involves your boyfriend." she cooed. 

Clara choked, clutching the heavy collar around her neck. "What have you done to him? Where is he?" she growled, panting heavily. 

"Ha!" Missy exclaimed with a trace of cynicism in her voice. "Wish I knew! I can't find the bastard anywhere."

Clara blinked. "What do you mean you can't find him?"

Missy threw up her hands in frustration. "He just won't let me win! The nerve of that man." she shook her head in mock disapproval. "I have total victory, yet he won't let me claim it. I won. I killed the Tardis. It was fair and square--"

"You did what!?" Clara shrieked, refusing to believe the lies Missy spun. 

Missy shrugged. "I killed the Tardis." she said matter-of-factly as if it was nothing. "Blew it up into a million pieces. I crushed the soul of that old hag." 

"Shut up! Shut up! Why do you tell such horrible lies?" Clara screamed. She wanted nothing more than to bolt to her feet and catch Missy's smooth neck beneath her fingers and squeeze the breath from her lungs. To shut her up for good. Respiratory bypass system be damned. Morality be damned. Morality was dead in a ditch. All bets were off when it came to Missy. Clara jerked her body in vain-- somehow rooted to the spot. Her legs tingled painfully, and to Clara's dismay, refused to move. Paralyzed.

"Oh, it's no lie, my dear." Missy grinned, proud of herself. "The Tardis is dead."

Clara trembled, her anger giving way to raw grief which threatened to gnaw away at her bones. "And where is the Doctor?" 

Missy picked at her manicured nails with disinterest. "Floating away in space. Somewhere." 

"Somewhere?" Clara asked with restrained fury, refusing to allow her voice to display her growing state of panic.

"I can't find him." Missy huffed, exasperated. "He was in the Time Vortex when the Tardis bit the dust. He could be anywhere in time and space for all I know. Apparently he knows me too well because he's got himself frozen in Angel form and he's closed off his mind to cut off the broadcast of any telepathic signals. Signals that could betray his position. What a twit!" she grumbled. "He makes my life so difficult sometimes."

Missy's words stung. Clara clung to any scrap of doubt she could find. Anything that could refute Missy's story. A million thoughts raced through her head at the speed of light, and above all, the mental image of the Doctor, her Doctor, drifting alone through the black nothingness of space. Dead as a stone. 

A single tear escaped and mingled with the fine grime coating her once rosy cheeks. It was true. Everything was true. It made sense. The pale, unresponsive glow in the back of her mind which used to represent the very spirit of her best friend in the universe was evidence to Missy's claim. She wept. She wept for the Doctor. For the Tardis. She searched and searched, finally coming to a set of blockades she did not remember creating. She tore them down one by one, finding nothing within but a faint pulsating flicker of light where the mind of the Tardis used to reside. The mind of the old ship had been so suddenly and viciously ripped from Clara's that Clara's mind had instinctively erected blockades around the site, blinding her from reality. 

"Oh look at you." Missy prodded Clara's side with a pointed boot. "You're making such a mess."

Clara shifted her gaze with bleary eyes, suddenly so tired. Her strength had been siphoned from her body and left nothing but a husk in its wake. She groaned, her mind reeling. 

"Why?" she choked, her voice barely a whisper. "Why did you do it? I thought you needed the Tardis to bring back Gallifrey."

Missy patted her head, stroking her hair in a false gesture of comfort. "Come now, my darling. Stop your crying," she cooed. "I'm here because I've given up."

When Clara did not respond she felt the need to elaborate. "I blew up the Tardis because...well, I guess I just felt like it. Just had the urge." Missy moved to the other side of the cell, staring at the far wall, her hands clasped behind her back. "I remembered what all the Gallifreyans have done to me over the years, and suddenly the prospect of saving them seemed not so hot an idea. I am not a kind person, sweetheart. And I am definitely not the forgiving type." 

She sighed, almost in regret. Maybe even in grief. "I searched for the Doctor for weeks. But even I have my limits, dearie. I eventually grew bored and now I've set my sights on other matters. The good news is I'm done with you, Clara, my dear. You no longer are of any use to me. My new Tardis and I have all kinds of mischief we could be getting up to right now and I ain't waiting any longer."

She crooked a finger underneath Clara's chin to lift her downcast face, and Clara found that she no longer possessed the will to resist. 

"No hard feelings," Missy began, "but I have to hold up my end of the deal with the Daleks, of course."

Clara's eyes widened. Missy released her hold on her face and made her way over to the door, her heels clacking noisily against the rough stone floor. She punched a code into the keypad and the door slid open soundlessly. Harsh light flooded into the tiny room, obscured only by Missy's frame in the doorway. 

Missy's face melted into an expression of something almost resembling sympathy and it was then that Clara knew that things were about to get much, much worse.

"Tomorrow morning," she began, "you will be converted into a Dalek." 

Clara's heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. The sympathetic look on Missy's face seamlessly morphed into a wicked and sadistic smile. "Enjoy your last night, Clara dear, and goodbye." 

Missy slammed the door shut behind her with a loud clang that fell on deaf ears. The roar of blood rushing from Clara's head drowned out all other sounds and suddenly she felt like she might faint. She crumpled against the stone and struggled to breathe. 

Clara knew. It was now or never. 

"Rusty?" she called out weakly.

"YES?" the Dalek grated out behind from behind the wall which now supported her. He had heard everything.

"There has been a change of plans." She took in an unsteady breath, aware of the gravity of their situation. 

"The escape is happening.”

“Tonight."


	16. Jailbroken

"The plan is starting. Now." Clara panted, her legs tingling painfully as sensation began to return to her deadened nerves. "Rusty," she licked her lips nervously, steeling herself against the panic within, "in your cell, do you see that panel by the door?"

"AFFIRMATIVE."

"Plug yourself into it. Start the plan. This prison is controlled by the Dalek hive mind. Hack it. I know that you are no longer part of the hive mind, but I need you to try."

"I WILL TRY." Rusty grated out, attaching his sucker-like data prong to the panel and searching.

Clara groaned as the merciless tingling began to recede from her limbs. She gripped a crack in the wall and attempted to lift herself from the dirty floor. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her breath coming in labored pants. Her fingertips began to bleed against the jagged edges of the crack. She poured all of her focus into moving just one leg. She couldn't afford to be crippled. Not tonight.

Clara gave one last shout and finally the leg moved. She trembled with exertion, shakily rising to a kneel. She turned and reached above her to the window, scrabbling for the cool metal of a bar to support herself.

Her bloodied fingertips brushed the frigid material and latched on for dear life. She hauled herself up with all the strength she had left and leaned heavily against the wall for support. She scoffed to herself, cynically enjoying her small victory.

"Rusty?" she breathed, "What's taking so long?"

"I CANNOT INFILTRATE THE DALEK SECURITY." his voice sounded as remorseful as possible for a Dalek.

"What do you mean you can't get in?" Clara asked, knitting her eyebrows together. This was definitely going to be hitch in the plan. Possibly a fatal one. "You are a Dalek!"

"I AM NO LONGER IN THE SYSTEM."

Clara groaned in frustration. She did not want to do what she knew must be done. "Rusty?"

"IT IS FUTILE," he negated.

"Rusty. Listen to me." she stared straight through the Dalek's soul. Determined. "We are mentally bonded. I need you to search my mind."

The Dalek somehow looked surprised despite his suit of metal. He abandoned his tinkering with the panel and his eyestalk whirled around to face her.

"WHY?" the twin lights on his head lighting up in question.

"Because," she hesitated, taking in a deep breath to level herself. "Because I've been a Dalek before."

"IMPOSSIBLE. THE CONVERSION PROCESS IS IRREVERSIBLE. YOU ARE STILL A HUMAN."

"I know. It's a long story. My memories of it are locked up, so you're going to have to go in and find them."

Rusty did not look convinced.

Clara sighed, thinking back to a conversation she'd had with the Doctor so long ago when he was still in his previous incarnation. Back when she was the one riddle he couldn't solve. One day, he had accidentally let some details slip in a frustrated rage. He had spoken of a girl named Oswin Oswald, and a governess named Clara Oswin Oswald. Apparently they were her, one and the same. He had called them "echoes."

She didn't remember much, but she did know this. "Look," Clara sighed, "all I know is that I have been a Dalek before and that I was able to hack into the Dalek hive mind. Please," she gripped the bars tighter. "It's the only way."

Without warning, the Dalek pushed his way through her mind. Air blasted out of Clara's lungs as if she had been punched. She coughed forcefully and suddenly something broke. She stumbled backwards, nearly losing her footing. Her pupils blew wide in shock, hundreds of thousands of images of herself flashing before her eyes.

No. Not herself. Not quite. Images of a Victorian barmaid turned governess flitted past her gaze, a girl identical to herself wearing a pretty red dress, trapped in a Dalek. As a Dalek. Another girl, lost in a park, watching a yellow car from the 1930's race by.

And suddenly there was the Doctor. All of him. She saw herself chasing after him through a field, another vision of herself running down a corridor, watching helplessly as the Doctor dangled from an icy cliff by nothing more than a question-marked umbrella.

And then she saw herself dying. Over and over again. Thousands of times. Only to be reborn time and time again to a new set of parents, a new time. Victorian Age here, Stone Age there, deep into the future, and sometimes not even on Earth.

And then she saw herself. The real her. Answering the door to a very eager Doctor clad in monk robes. This was the real her, wasn't it? She saw herself jumping into the glowing scar that was his timeline and exploding into a million pieces. A million lives. Lives she had been blinded to- until now. For her own good.

Her legs gave out beneath her. She clambered to the floor in a heap, not even registering the way her bones knocked painfully against the coarse surface. She curled into a fetal position, tears streaming from her eyes. The girl who died a million times over and lived to tell the tale. The Impossible Girl. And all for one man. The Doctor.

Every death flashed through her mind. She felt every one of their last moments- the moments their hearts stopped beating and the breath left their lungs, over and over in every combination possible. She might have screamed. She wasn't sure. Her body felt like it wasn't hers anymore.

Rusty's affirmation that he now knew what to do fell on deaf ears. Clara suddenly felt like she was dying all over again. Darkness slowly faded the images, and soon reality itself, to black. And there was silence.

...

White. White light. That was the first thing Clara's mind registered. It stabbed through her pupils, seemingly in spite of her closed eyelids. She attempted to bring a hand up to shield her eyes but found she couldn't move. Was she paralyzed again? Something icy squeezed into her skin like a vice.

"Rusty?" she asked tentatively, worry creeping into her voice.

No answer.

It was cold. Far colder than her cell typically was. And smoother. The air smelled cleaner- more metallic. Something whirred and she suddenly felt as if she were being watched.

"SHE IS AWAKE."

Clara shot her eyes open. A Dalek stared back.

Clara screamed and jerked against her restraints. She looked down and to her horror found that she had been strapped to a large surgical table. The blinding white light came from a massive overhead surgical lamp. She squinted against it and made out the forms of at least six or seven Daleks.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She definitely wasn't in her cell anymore. No! No, it was too soon! It wasn't even dawn yet! She fought with all her might, thrashing against the restraints, and the Daleks around her began barking orders to one another.

A heart monitor beeped loudly overhead and next to it laid a stand holding several IV bags and a table containing an assortment of tools. Some she recognized. Scalpels. Scissors.

Bonesaws.

An empty Dalek case waited in the far corner of the room.

 _'Jomos!'_  she shouted in her mind _. 'Jomos, wake up!'_

Two of the Daleks disappeared into another room and emerged carrying a large syringe and a vial.

_'Jomos!'_

_'Miss Clara? What happened? What is the matter?'_  the Ood answered, concern lacing his voice.

Clara nearly cried in relief. The two Daleks inched closer and she knew she was running out of time.  _'Jomos! Thank God! Listen, the plan is go! Tell Malonyo the Silurian when he comes to suit up that the plan is go! Establish a link with him and with anyone else he mentions as being part of his group. He knows what to do.'_

 _'What about you, Clara? Please tell me what is wrong.'_  he asked, understandably worried at the panic in her tone.

_'It's too late for me. They're about to convert me into a Dalek.'_

Jomos fell silent, suddenly unable to produce any words.

 _'Save yourselves.'_  she choked out, the Dalek beside her took the syringe and vial from the others and stabbed the long needle into the liquid within. A sedative, most likely.

Dawn surfaced and the morning wake-up klaxon reverberated across the camp. Everywhere else, hundreds of prisoners were escorted from their cells and routed to Jomos to be suited up for their shifts. Clara could hear them marching.

The Dalek shook the bubbles from the syringe and squirted out a small amount of the fluid as a test. Satisfied, it positioned the tip above Clara's outstretched forearm. It was then that Clara noticed that all the Daleks had switched out their plunger appendages for claw-like ones- to grip the tools that would slice her body apart and stitch it back together as a horrible monster.

Her heart pounded erratically in her chest, the heart monitor speeding up in tune. "No." she begged, a tear slipping from her eyes and pooling on the cool metal. "Please."

"YOU ARE CLARA OSWALD," the Dalek to her right barked. "YOU ARE A GENIUS. YOU KNOW THE DOCTOR'S SECRETS. YOU ARE MORE USEFUL TO US AS A DALEK THAN DEAD. DO NOT RESIST."

The needle lowered. The other Daleks each grabbed a tool. One readied a scalpel. Another parted her hospital gown to reveal an expanse of delicate skin. The tears became a river, wetting her hair and the table beneath her shoulder blades.

She noticed that she was clean. They had cleaned her body. She didn't know how, she didn't want to think about that, but she was grateful to gaze upon her milky skin once again, free of dirt and dried blood.

She held a hand up as best she could against the restraints and studied it. One last time. In just a few short hours, she would be reduced to nothing more than a brain imprisoned inside a foreign body, with no memory of what it ever meant to be free.

Turned into a killing machine. Again.

The Daleks positioned the light and the needle dove beneath her skin. Clara squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the darkness of unconscious to set her free from this hell.

 _'Clara?'_  Jomos asked.

Clara gazed at him in her mind's eye, unable to speak.

 _'Take my hand,'_  he whispered, extending a very alien hand in her direction. At this moment, Clara couldn't have been offered a more valuable gift in the entire world.

She gripped the hand for dear life.  _'Thank you,'_  she sobbed quietly.

_'Goodbye, Jomos.'_

He smiled kindly, the beginnings of tears shining in his eyes. Two emotions at once, as if he were happy and sad at the same time. Clara smiled back with the memory of the Doctor teasing her for that very look. Jomos squeezed her hand.

_'Goodbye, Clara.'_

Clara steeled herself. She was going to be brave. She had saved the Doctor as a Dalek before, and she sure as hell was going to do it again.

And then nothing. The world came to a halt. The needle withdrew from her skin, but she never felt the sedative push through her veins. A klaxon rang out and the room was bathed in red. Clara shot her eyes open to find the Daleks paused above her, almost as if they were listening to a message she could not hear. They all shared glances and returned their tools to the tray.

"DALEK CAMP KASTORIUS IS UNDER ATTACK. WE MUST ASSIST." the leader announced, indicating for the others to secure the room and their patient.

"WHAT ABOUT THE HUMAN?" asked the one with the needle. It almost looked disappointed.

"LEAVE HER. WE MUST POSTPONE THE CONVERSION."

 _'Clara, what is happening?'_  Jomos asked, confused.

 _'I...'_  Clara choked out in disbelief.  _'I think they're leaving.'_

The surgical light flickered out. The Daleks checked her restraints and left the room in a hurry, locking the door behind them. Clara released a breath she didn't know she was holding and cried out in relief.

She laughed. Without a chance to stop it, the floodgates burst their dams and suddenly she was a giggling mess, absolutely giddy for this small amount of bought time. And because the plan was working. Hope flooded through her veins with the idea that she just might escape this fate worse than death.

Clara knew it was only a matter of time until she would be free. All she had to do now was wait. The empty Dalek shell in the far corner had its eyestalk pointed straight at her, staring through her with glassy, dead eyes. And in that moment, Clara found that it didn't scare her anymore.

She relaxed, finding stillness to be less painful against the thick Dalekanium bands around her neck and limbs. She listened to the metronome of her heartbeat through the speakers of the monitor. She heard the distinctive thunder of engines in the distance and knew that the Daleks were gone. She could still hear the rumbling of drills deep beneath her- the Daleks must have left the Zygons in charge of the mining today. Perfect.

 _'Clara?'_  Jomos's gentle presence flared to life in her mind once again.  _'Malonyo and his men are positioned strategically around the mine. They await your orders. Are you alright?'_

Clara smiled.  _'I'm fine,'_  she affirmed.  _'They've postponed the conversion. Wait for my command. Something big is about to go down and this must be done with absolute precision.'_

_'Yes ma'am.'_

...

Deep in the core of the asteroid stood Malonyo, inconspicuously drilling into the rock as he did every day. Like everyone else. But today was not just another day, and he was definitely not just anyone else. Today was the day he would either escape this hell or die trying, and he wouldn't miss it for the world.

He had watched the Daleks leave following the sound of a klaxon and knew the first gear in their grand operation had been turned. Jomos had relayed Clara's orders to wait and be ready.

He cast a glance to his handpicked crew of other slaves, never sparing more than just a knowing tilt of the head, for the Zygons were always watching. He scanned the room for said creatures with deep-set reptilian eyes. There seemed to be more Zygons here now- to make up for the absence of Daleks, he assumed.

He checked his drill, a lethal weapon at the flick of a switch, making sure it was primed. The other members of his group took notice and did the same.

More Zygons poured into the room, dotting the perimeter, as ugly and menacing as ever. Malonyo smiled to himself. Good. Let them come. The more here, the more he could kill in one fell swoop.

...

The Daleks formed themselves into the ultimate killing machines by removing every emotion except hate, and Rusty was no exception. Hot seething rage boiled through his blood like no Dalek had ever experienced before. The Doctor had shown him the truth. The truth about the Daleks. And if there was another thing the Daleks had removed, it was the capacity to forgive.

The distress signal was delivered without a hitch. Camp Kastorius was a significant distance from their location- outside of communication range save for emergency signals. He monitored their progress. As expected, they'd taken all of the Dalek ships at the dock- save one, which was down for repairs. Just as Clara had planned.

The Daleks passed out of hive communication range and Rusty knew there wasn't a second to lose.

A second klaxon rang out. The sound of freedom.

...

A shriek of rusty metal filled Clara's ears, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

The thick metal bands binding her to the operating table shook in defiance, eventually bursting apart one by one, as if wrenched apart by an unseen hand. The Dalek laser drones and security cameras, which had been watching her from the far corner of the ceiling, dimmed for a moment before deactivating completely. Clara grinned widely, rubbing her hands to restore circulation to them. She wasted no time in yanking out the IV leads and leaping off the table, retying her hospital gown.

There was a loud hiss and suddenly her heavy collar snapped open, falling to the ground with a metallic clang. Clara coughed with the shock of suddenly being able to stand up straight. It was definitely too early in the plan to celebrate, but at this moment she couldn't care less. Without the collars, the prisoners were now free to roam about the Camp without the fear of being disintegrated.

The lock to the conversion suite shrieked and blew the doors wide open. Clara grinned and bolted out as fast as she could, desperate to get out of that horrible place. The corridor beyond was long, narrow, and completely bare save for the doors of several more identical suites. She had to get back to Rusty to finish the plan. Not knowing which way to go, she sprinted barefoot towards the nearest exit, barely suppressing the giddy laughter which threatened to escape her lips.

...

The Zygons only had seconds to react to this new klaxon before all hell broke loose. They looked to each other, widening their eyes in alarm. The Dalek controls had been overridden. The prisoners were escaping. They barked orders to one another and made their ways to the elevators in a panic.

Malonyo smiled. They had effectively cornered themselves. His men were in place and ready. He twisted the dial on his drill.

"Hey, ugly!" he shouted, pointing to Zygon 626, the one who had ratted Xio out a few months before.

The Zygon in question raised its head, its momentary surprise quickly replaced with anger. It turned to face the offending voice with a snarl, juices dripping from its appalling lips.

"Yeah, you!" Malonyo taunted, all eyes now on him.

"What is the meaning of this mutiny? Speak, Silurian!" the Zygon growled.

"The meaning?" Malonyo shouted, rage contorting his face into a fearsome scowl, his eyes narrowing to slits, his nostrils flared. "I'll give you a meaning!" He shouldered the makeshift gun and did not think twice.

"This is for Xio!"

Light filled his vision. The Zygon disappeared. Pulverized into nothing. Tiny flecks of dust and ash danced in the air where the Zygon once stood.

There was a half-second of baited silence. The Zygons stared at the new legion of armed inmates in a mixture of shock and bewilderment.

And, more satisfyingly, fear.

"Attack, men!" Malonyo roared. "For vengeance! For freedom! Attack!"

The prisoners charged. The room lit up in a blaze of light and energy, the smell of burning flesh filling the air. The shrill ring of the lasers and the crackle of electricity from the Zygons' fingers obliterated the silence.

Prisoners dropped quivering to the ground left and right, fried. Their armored metal mine suits conducted the electricity- effectively cooking them within. But it was nothing compared to the sheer amount of smoke and Zygon ashes filling the air.

...

Clara sprinted down the maze of corridors with ease, visualizing the map she had created over the past few months in her mind. Faint screams and the rumble of drills broke the clean silence, and Clara knew that it was only a matter of time before their element of surprise wore out.

Doors and signs flew by, ignored. Clara knew what she was looking for. A large sign appeared in her vision, marking a now-unlocked room.

"ROOM 1368: ARMORY," it read.

Clara smiled broadly, not even feeling the sting of exhaustion from her weakened muscles.

"Perfect."

...

Electricity arced through the air, shattering the silence with its menacing crackle. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the air like a thick haze.

Malonyo dove behind a stalagmite, panting heavily. Blue shocks of Zygon energy snaked through the air to his left and right. Smoke and ash gathered thickly in the enclosed space, obscuring nearly everything from view, but the gurgled sounds of agony and sizzling flesh told him all he needed to know.

They were losing. Badly.

Worry pressed into his mind. At first, victory seemed easily within their grasp, but the Silurian quickly realized that his ragtag militia of starved slaves was no match for the military training of the healthy Zygons.

"Fall back!" he shouted into the fray. "Seek cover behind the rocks, you fools!"

He took a moment to fire off a couple of shots before retreating back to his cover. The laser light revealed just enough to confirm that he had hit his mark, but he knew that that one Zygon had now been replaced by two others.

"Oh, Clara, where are you?" he begged the air.

The Silurian sucked in a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and jumped into the fray. He screamed and fired like a madman, dodging volleys of azure lightning.

A door opened with a shriek. Light flooded into the darkened caves from a hidden entrance. Suddenly the lightning redirected itself to a new target. There was a familiar sound, and for the first time, the Zygons sought cover.

"What's the matter, sucker-faces? Can't handle us anymore?" Malonyo taunted, his booming voice echoing through the caverns.

Then there was another sound. One too familiar to ignore- one that made his

blood run cold.

"EXTERMINATE."

Reptilian eyes widened in honest fear. The Daleks had returned.

This was it. Their makeshift mining-lasers-turned-weapons were no match against Dalekanium armor. Malonyo forced himself to move, diving behind a large boulder, still and silent as the rock.

Agonized shouts filled the air, but only those of Zygons.  _'Why would the Daleks kill their own police?'_ he mused. Baffled, he chanced a glimpse over the rock.

"EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!" Rusty screamed, doing what Daleks do best- killing every enemy in his path. Dalek laser light shot through the darkness like flares. Zygon energy danced across Rusty's frame uselessly. The cacophony of the battle quickly became deafening.

It was all over in a moment.

Silence fell over the bloody cavern. Nothing living betrayed its position with sound nor movement. The dust began to settle. The smoke found its way out through heat vents. All eyes trained onto the lone Dalek in the room. Blackened with soot, but otherwise unscathed. Searching for enemies.

A door hissed open. A familiar  _ding!_  mocked the tension with its cheerfulness. Warm yellow light bathed the dimly lit caves, obstructed only by a silhouette.

Clara Oswald stepped from the elevator and onto the ore-studded ground, raising a single fist in the air.

Rusty acknowledged his leader. "WE HAVE VICTORY!" he reported dutifully, like a good soldier.

"Victory!" Clara shouted, her joyful words echoing to each and every slave. She turned the speakers of her mine suit to full blast. Everybody must hear the good news. "Victory!"

Malonyo dove out from behind the boulder, fearless. A wide toothy grin split his soot-covered face. "Victory!" He shouted to nobody in particular, and not caring.

Jubilant shouting swelled the air with the sound of freedom. The newly-freed slaves emerged from hiding and stepped toward the light.

"Clara!" Malonyo called, laughter lacing the deep rasp of his voice. He took off in a sprint towards his new savior. "It worked, Clara!"

He arrived to her side, panting. "It worked. It worked. We're free!"

Clara smiled, but set a hard gaze. She looked out to the crowd now gathered around her. "We are free," she confirmed, earning deafening shouts of approval. She held her hand out and immediately the room fell silent. "But," she enunciated clearly, "we still have work to do."

"Everybody!" she continued. "There is a Dalek ship left abandoned in the Repair Bay. That's our ticket out of here. I need you all to form factions." She held out a hand and began counting off with her fingers. "One to get the ship spaceworthy, one to gather provisions and medical supplies, and one to gather the injured and the dead. You have your orders. Go!"

"Bossy, aren't ya?" Malonyo smirked playfully.

Clara pointed at him. "You. I have a specific job for you."

"Anything, Miss Clara. You name it."

She couldn't hold back a grin. Loyalty such as this is rare. She had chosen her team well. "Rusty estimates we have approximately six hours before the Daleks realize the deception and return here. We may escape, but as long as this camp exists, prisoners will fill it. You're an experienced miner here, yeah?"

The Silurian nodded, slowly realizing what she was about to ask of him.

"I need you to destabilize this asteroid. This place must be destroyed, got that?" She said without a trace of indecisiveness.

Malonyo grinned, shouldering his mining laser proudly. "I'd be honored. I can rig it to destabilize at a rate slow enough to give us a few hours to get the hell out of here."

Clara nodded. "Do it."

Malonyo began to start back into the caves before stopping and turning around with a wry look on his face. "By the way, when we're you going to tell me we had a freakin' Dalek on our side?"

Clara looked to Rusty, now giving directions and instructions to the different factions. He disappeared into one of the elevators to join the repair team- side by side with creatures of all species and races in perfect peace. "Oh, Rusty?" she smiled. "He's an old friend."

Malonyo still had questions, but decided against them. He nodded and took off into the depths of the caves.

...

There it was. The center.

A soft orange light bathed the small antechamber in its glow. Bubbling lazily, a great mass of Dalekanium magma pulsed with warmth- the heartbeat of the asteroid.

Malonyo activated his drill. It hummed to life, vibrating its modified parts with an excess of energy. Nobody knew about this room except for him. Not even the Daleks. Being part of the Silurian race, which have lived beneath the Earth's surface for millions of years, he could practically smell out a hidden chamber a mile away.

Without any further hesitation, he went to work. The sharp beam of the laser contrasted the gentle orange light until it was completely drowned out.

Nothing seemed to happen until the entire asteroid gave an abrupt shudder. Malonyo was knocked off his feet with its violence, barely missing the searing magma. He swore under his breath slightly, hoping that the earthquake had not harmed those above.

Malonyo regained his footing, grateful for the heat-resistant qualities of his mine suit. He changed his target to a paler part of the fiery ore, successfully boring though it and the solid rock beneath with only minor tremors. He operated by feel, observing the changes in frequency and intensity of each quake with an experienced eye.

After about twenty minutes of consistent drilling, the end appeared in sight. Only a few more meters and the asteroid would go into a slow but irreversible destabilization, giving them about ten hours, by his estimate.

"Almost there." He muttered to himself. Sweat beaded between his scales with exertion. "Almost there," he grunted out.

"Malonyo Scaye, I am sorry, but I am afraid that I cannot allow you to proceed."

Suddenly, Malonyo's entire body seized. Every single muscle contracted painfully, holding him completely still. Through no volition of his own, his arms jerked up, pointing the still-firing laser to the wall and away from the core. Intense pain ripped through his frame. He tried to cry out, but he could not draw breath to scream.

Jomos the Ood stepped into his vision, the orb in his hand glowing brightly.

_'You bastard!'_

"I am sorry that I have to do this, but I cannot allow you to destroy this asteroid. This place is my home, and the Daleks are my family." The Ood explained with false remorse. "They are on their way back now. I estimate fifteen minutes until their return," he mentioned casually.

 _'You're delusional, you dense cone-head! We trusted you!'_  Malonyo snapped in his mind. Pure fury blazed though his system. He could feel the overpowering presence of the Ood controlling his every nerve.

"You see, I have an arrangement with the Daleks," Jomos explained. "I read minds and alert them to signs of mutiny, and in return they spare my life, feed me, and give me easy tasks."

Rage burned through the Silurian from the inside out.  _'So that's how the Zygons know who to spy on! That's why all the plans fail! Every single time, something has always gone wrong, and it's you!'_

"Correct," Jomos answered coolly.

Malonyo's eyes widened with the realization that the Ood was reading his every thought. He blocked him out as best he could and struggled for his life, ordering his damned muscles to move.

"Sorry about Xio." Jomos apologized but without any real regret. As if it were nothing.

That was it. The last straw.

Something broke inside the Silurian. He jerked and wrestled the Ood for control of his mind, catching Jomos by surprise. He began winning ground. Fingers here, toes there, his diaphragm. He gasped for air hungrily and poured all of his concentration into his arms. He succeeded in moving them a couple inches, now causing the laser to burn through a different section of wall. Slowly, he raised the laser to the direction of the Ood.

Jomos's orb glowed brighter. Malonyo's arms betrayed him. The laser now pointed straight up, scarring the ceiling, causing a cascade of small stalactites to rain down upon them. The beam inched closer and closer, more inward.

To his horror, Malonyo realized the laser would be pointing at his face in a matter of seconds. Adrenaline pumped through his system, and with a mighty shout, he managed to shift his aim a few inches to the side. The laser burned through his suit and deep into his shoulder, permeating the air with the sound and smell of burning flesh. His bloodcurdling scream echoed mockingly though the cavern- nobody to hear it save himself and his murderer.

Or so he thought.

"Let him go!" Clara snapped, pure anger wracking her entire frame. She gripped the gun tighter in her hands, her finger on the trigger.

Jomos shot his head up, causing him to momentarily lose his grip on Malonyo's body. The laser clattered from his hands and slid across the room.

"Clara! How did you find out? How did you find me?" Jomos asked, frustration lacing his voice.

"Telepathy works both ways, pal." she growled, golden light flashing beneath her pupils. "I said let him go! I will kill you, Jomos, I swear!"

"And why would I do that, Miss Clara?"

"Because I'm the one holding a gun to your face. He's incapacitated. You can only control one person at a time. I think we all know the logical choice here."

The Ood mulled it over before a confident look crossed his features. "You will not kill me. I can see it in your mind. You could never kill another sentient being."

"You don't know that! I don't know that!" she snarled, his dismissal of her threat only fueling her rage. "Why, Jomos? Why did you do it? I trusted you! The Daleks killed your family, don't you remember?!"

"The Daleks are my family now. And this is my home. I apologize for having to revert to more dramatic measures, but my initial warning to the Daleks was intercepted this morning. I did not mean for it to go this far," he answered calmly.

"Fight me, you coward! Release the Silurian!"

Jomos suddenly released his grip on Malonyo. He collapsed to the ground, shivering in searing pain.

"As you wish," the Ood answered.

Clara felt herself tense up. Every single muscle paralyzed. The shooting pain of hundreds of muscle cramps shot through her system. Clearly she had underestimated the true power of her opponent. She fought with everything she had.

Clara knew she only had about two minutes before she would pass out from lack of oxygen. Stars exploded in her eyes. She erected blockades and ripped at the forced mind link with all her might, winning some ground and landing some blows.

But it wasn't enough.

The link only tightened, slowly suffocating her to death. As she began to run out of time, so did her energy. Her mind began to black out. Everything seemed duller. Farther away. The lack of oxygen in her brain began to get the best of her, and she felt her muscles trying to go limp.

There was a sound like thunder. Bright light overwhelmed her vision. Suddenly she could breathe again.

She crumpled to the hard ground, every nerve on fire. She gulped down huge breaths of air. Slowly, her sight returned.

Jomos the Ood swayed on his feet, twitching uncontrollably. A giant cauterized hole sizzled at the edges of what was left of his skull. The orb dropped from his hands and shattered into a thousand pieces. A sudden spasm knocked his body back into a small rock. His feet tripped, and that was all it took to send his prone body deep into the pit of boiling magma, giving one final kick before disappearing without a trace. Clara fought a sudden rise of nausea and looked up to see Malonyo, half propped up by his good arm, holding the smoking drill.

"You..." she panted out in disbelief.

"Yes I did," he groaned, biting back against unrelenting waves of agony.

She swallowed hard. "Right," she gasped out in relief but also in sadness.

"Clara, we only have ten minutes. He warned the Daleks and they're coming back." Malonyo grated out, trying feebly to stand.

She shook herself. This was no time for emotions. "I know. I heard. We have to go."

She ran towards him and pulled on his good arm with a strength she didn't know she possessed. "Come on, let's go."

"Clara, leave me behind. I have to destroy this damned asteroid." He sputtered out weakly, blood dribbling from his lips.

"No! I will not leave you behind! It's too late anyway!" Clara hooked her arms beneath his and raised him fully to a standing position. She wrapped his good arm around her shoulders for support. "On your feet, solider! March!"

Together they made their way out as quickly as they could. Clara managed to find an intercom and send out the message for everyone to get to the ship immediately.

They found their way to the surface, trekked back to the camp across the rocky expanse, and shed their bulky mine suits. The faint sounds of approaching Dalek ships began to echo through the corridors.

Malonyo fought with all his strength to stay conscious. He would be no use as dead weight. Or dead, for that matter. Blood dripped from areas in the deep wound which had not cauterized successfully. His vision swam; he could barely feel Clara's arms supporting him anymore.

"Clara, please. Please just leave me here. I'm slowing you down. Save yourself." He begged, resigned to his fate.

"No!" Clara refused. "You do not have my permission to die, got that?" She pointed around the corner to where a crowd of fellow slaves had gathered. "Look. That's the Repair Bay. The last of the prisoners are boarding. We're almost there. I need you to fight for me, Malonyo. I can't lose two friends in one day."

The Silurian nodded once before finally succumbing to his injuries. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body fell limp. Unconscious. Clara dragged the heavy reptilian man for a while before a group of inmates from the Medical Faction took him off her hands and rushed him towards the ship. "Make sure he receives medical attention right away!" she shouted after them.

The rumble marking the arrival of Dalek ships shook the camp and its inhabitants to the very core. The last one to board, Clara dove into the dilapidated Dalek ship and sealed the doors. She looked around for a moment, taking a rough head-count. Everyone appeared to be accounted for.

All but one.

A crippling sense of dread pooled in Clara's stomach. Her face paled. "Where's Rusty?" she whispered.

 _'CLARA OSWALD,'_ Rusty grated out across the mind link they shared.  _'YOU KNOW WHAT I MUST DO.'_

"...No..." Clara gasped, bolting to the closest window.

Rusty appeared in view, apparently hacking into a control panel outside. The Repair Bay doors roared and lurched open, revealing the vast expanse of space beyond.

"No! Rusty!" she yelled. She dove to the bulkhead doors of the ship, only to be caught and held back by fellow prisoners. "No! Let me go! We can't leave him behind!"

_'ONLY A DALEK CAN EXTERMINATE A DALEK.'_

' _That's not true, Rusty! That's not true!'_  she cried, but deep down, she knew what he meant. Clara fought the grip of her associates with all the strength she had left. She knew that he was right, that the other prisoners were right.

No.

Tears began to slip from her eyes. She kicked against her captors knowing it was useless. She couldn't give him up. Not now.  _'Rusty, please!'_  she pleaded.

The ship shuddered to life. Its tethers released and the engines hummed with power. Clara begged for the pilots to stop, to wait, knowing that it was wrong.

_'GOODBYE, CLARA OSWALD. AND THANK YOU. YOU HAVE GIVEN ME MY REVENGE.'_

Clara fell limp, exhausted physically and emotionally. She put a hand to the window, watching the Good Dalek become farther and farther away.  _'Goodbye, Rusty,'_ she choked out _. 'My friend. …My friend. Thank you.'_

Legions of Daleks poured into the hallway they had occupied moments before, screaming and readying their aim before suddenly stopping in their tracks as if by unheard orders.

Rusty hacked into the Dalek mainframe with no emotion save for the strongest hatred ever to burn in a Dalek. It shot through his veins, hot and reckless as wildfire. A final order. To self-destruct.

The defective ship maneuvered out through the open airlocks, powering up and vanishing into the expanse of space like a bat out of hell.

Every single Dalek stared though his soul and roared in his mind- powerless to stop their fate. Rusty took one last step towards the enemy, fearless, as a Dalek should be.

"EXTERMINATE!"

From the view of the renegade ship, a small explosion lit up the entrance of the bay doors. "Rusty!" Clara cried, feeling the mind link they shared shatter into dust. There was a second's pause followed by a cascade of hundreds of explosions which rocked the entire asteroid.

Clara's eyes widened with a sudden realization. She ran as fast as she could to the pilots, momentarily swallowing her grief. "Full power! Get us out of here!" she barked, "That asteroid is gonna blow!"

A tremendous  _BOOM_  shook the entire ship. The simultaneous self-destruction of hundreds of Daleks at once had pushed the asteroid over the brink into critical destabilization. Clara ran to the windows, her vision filled with the sight of a huge fireball heading straight into their direction.

"Go! Go! Go! Get us out of here!" she screamed, the heat of it beginning to lick at the ship.

"We don't have full power!" one of the pilots exclaimed, panic in his eyes and voice. "The engines-"

Fire engulfed the ship. Debris from the exploded asteroid pelted the hull like missiles. There was a great flash of light.

And suddenly.

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the wait! College is tough lol. Don't worry, things will be much smoother for a while now. Fluff coming soon. The next chapter will be much shorter and I've got it all planned out, so hopefully I can get that one out before the spring semester starts.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and as always, REVIEW! (please I beg you lol)


	17. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face joins the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here it is! So, I’ve got some good news. This chapter ended up being extremely long, so I decided to spit it into two separate chapters. This means that chapter 18 is all written and ready to go. I’ll be posting it on Monday morning. Prepare for fluff and angst!

 Nothing. 

There was nothing. Nothing but heat and the blinding purity of light. It banished every corner of darkness it touched. Like the lightning of a midnight storm. 

Time stopped. Every eye shut in instinctive vain. It was nearly as bright behind closed lids-- searing into brains, blocking out all other senses. 

Clara Oswald felt weightless. Blind and deaf to everything aside from this overpowering brilliance and its scorching influence. She might have screamed. The whole ship might have screamed. She wasn't sure. 

And it was gone. Like someone had flicked a switch. The starry darkness of space filled the stolen Dalek ship once more. 

"Shields are up," someone gasped out. It could have been one of the pilots, but Clara couldn’t tell. The voice sounded so small, so distant. And there was that ringing-- drilling through her eardrums. 

Her head swam and, like a cloak, darkness enshrouded her mind. She wondered briefly if another bolt of lightning would come to split the blackness and bathe the world in light once more. 

But it never did.

The quiet abyss wrapped around her, body and mind, and took her deep into its depths below. 

...

Floating. Drifting. 

Clara attempted to open her eyes, but was met with nothing but darkness. Whether or not she was actually able to open her eyes seemed like a concept beyond her grasp. 

No air rushed past her fingertips. No sound kissed her ears. Her skin... something was off. It felt rougher, stiffer. As if body had been sculpted with concrete. She tried to move but nothing happened. She wasn't even sure if she was in her body anymore. 

Was she dead? Is this what death was like? A quiet conscious paralysis? 

Something touched her hand.

Her breath hitched, if she was breathing at all, that is. The foreign entity gripped her softly, almost as if it were another hand. Its warmth and softness rushed across her body like water, melting the roughness back into pliant flesh. It vibrated gently and seemed oddly familiar. 

Something dripped. A liquid of some sort. It oozed from the proffered hand and seeped between her fingers. It was warm, but heavy in a way. A smell suddenly filled her nostrils. 

Blood. It was blood. 

Clara screamed and tore her hand away. She attempted to shake the fluid off but it clung to her skin like a coat of paint. Like a marking. 

She calmed down, breathing deeply with air that didn't technically exist. She steeled herself. She reached out once again, groping for the hand in the blackness. 

It caught her. As if it had been reaching out to her. It gripped her fiercely and squeezed. 

Blinding pain shot into her entire body. Blood gushed from a million places at once. She screamed but could not let go. Its agony seared into her body for only a second.

And it was gone. 

The pain dissipated as if it were never there. Unseen wounds mended themselves, and blood dried and flaked away into nothing. 

The hand. It loosened its grip on hers slightly, almost as if it were losing its strength. Its vibrations were now faded, only evident near the pulse point of its wrist. 

Vibrations. Twin vibrations. 

Heartbeats. 

Clara's eyes widened. Her heart pounded. Golden light speared through the obsidian. She'd know it anywhere. 

_‘Doctor!’_

...

"Clara! Clara, calm down! You're safe, you're alright." 

Sheets went flying. IV lines ripped from their holds. Medical supplies clattered to the floor. 

Hands. More hands. They grasped at her all over, pinning her down against something-- something soft. 

"Clara!"

A shock. Her name-- an anchor of something real to hang on to. Reality crashed back into her mind like a truck hitting a deer. Her limbs seemed to be everywhere and moving. She willed them to stop and this time they obeyed. The hands pinning her down left her body. 

She opened her eyes and was met by the sight of something green. She blinked, blearily trying to clear the fog from her vision. She tried again and made an attempt to focus. 

The green was complicated, as if it were a shape. It had patches of lighter and darker areas, bluer and yellower areas, and what were those-- spots?

Scales.

"Malonyo?" Clara groaned, her voice as hoarse as her tongue was dry. 

Her vision adjusted to the light fully and the smiling face of the Silurian came into focus.

"Mornin', sleepy head!" Malonyo exclaimed. "You gave me quite a fight there just now. You punched my arm!"

Clara frowned, eyeing the apparent greenish bruise he showed on his right arm. His left was bandaged from his upper arm to his chest. His face appeared happy, yet concerned. "I'm sorry," she rasped, still trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. "I don't know what came over me." 

"You don't remember?" he asked, taking note of her confusion. 

"Remember what?" she breathed, turning her attention to the multitude of catheters and IV lines dangling from the bed. She glanced to her arm at the beads of scarlet blood from where the lines had been ripped out. She touched them, smearing the liquid between her fingers, watching it stain her skin red. Why was this so familiar?

"The nightmare." Malonyo stated, his voice now laced with a slight level of concern. 

Clara snapped from her trance. "What?" 

The Silurian raised his eyebrows. He had never seen her so unfocused before. "You had a nightmare, I think.

"I did?" she asked.

"Well," he gestured to the large mess in the area, "you woke up kicking and screaming and did this."

"I'm sorry," she frowned. "I don't remember."

She turned her attention to the medical equipment, the room, and realized suddenly that they were not alone. Dozens of eyes were now fixed upon her, some she recognized and some she did not. Her brain slowly began to come around. Had she been drugged? Why was everything in slow motion?

She swallowed thickly. "What's all this?" 

"Clara." Malonyo reached for her hand. "Clara, you've been in a coma for a week. You hit your head real hard. We thought we'd lost you."

Time stopped. A coma? For a whole week? Her eyes widened as she realized she was in a sickbay of some sort. Her throat was sore, like someone had jammed an ice pick down her trachea. She instinctively reached up to grasp at her neck. 

"Oh, sorry about that." Malonyo gestured. "We had to stick a tube down your throat to keep you breathing." He pointed to the respirator beside her bed. "The doctor says it might be sore for a couple of days."

"The doctor?" she asked.

"Oh yes!" Malonyo exclaimed, clapping his scaly hands together. He spun around to the other side of the room and made a gesture around the corner. 

An older woman appeared from around the bend, approaching Clara's bed with an air of confidence that suited her well. A human. She had beautiful dark skin, marred only by an occasional scar and the tell-tale signs of age. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent with a depth that suggested certain wisdom about her. She was dressed in a white physician's coat and held an electronic chart which showed Clara's improved vitals. She seemed familiar somehow.

It clicked. Clara's eyebrows shot up in a mixture of shock and recognition. The woman in the room had aged compared to her photographs, but it was definitely her. 

Malonyo smiled, extending a hand to present their newest ally. "Miss Oswald, let me introduce you to U.N.I.T's Chief Medical Officer, Dr. M--"

"Dr. Martha Jones." Clara gasped out in disbelief, reaching out to shake the hand of the former companion. 

"Clara Oswald." Martha grinned, showing off a beautiful smile with immaculate teeth and a posh British accent. "I've read all about you. I've been dying to meet you properly." 

The good doctor made up the distance and ignored Clara's outstretched hand, instead reaching in for a hug. Clara was surprised at first but quickly melted into the embrace of another human being-- something she hadn't felt in ages. Martha could almost count every single one of Clara's ribs beneath the thin hospital gown she wore.

"Wait, you two know each other?" Malonyo asked, confused. 

They broke the embrace with smiles and a firm handshake. "Malonyo," Clara began, laughing in disbelief, "This is Dr. Martha Jones! Former companion of the Doctor. Way back in his...tenth incarnation I think?" she faced Martha again. "I've read all about you in the Tardis archives."

"Likewise, Clara." She smiled warmly. "I read your file at U.N.I.T. I do still try to keep tabs on the Doctor to see what mischief he's up to. I'm nosy like that."

"But...how did you get here?" Clara asked, switching her gaze between Martha and Malonyo. 

"Oh," Malonyo started, obviously proud of himself, "while you were sleeping, we made runs to various planets and outputs. Buying supplies, picking people up, dropping people off, the works."

"I found Dr. Jones here on at a 23rd century Earth colony located on a planet in the area. It was pure chance, luck really. We happened to be in the same tavern at the same time."

"I overheard Malonyo trying to recruit crew for your ship." Martha interjected. "I heard him mention your name and the Doctor." Martha smirked cheekily. "I've always been good at eavesdropping."

Malonyo nodded, chuckling. "Yep, next thing I know, I couldn't get rid of her," he teased. "Looks like she's here to stay." 

"She fixed up my arm from my fight with Jomos and saved your life, Clara. You had a bleed in your brain. Honestly we thought we'd lost you, after being in a coma for a week and all. Nothing was working to snap you out of it, but hey, you're awake now!"

Clara looked to the doctor, nodding her thanks. She furrowed her eyebrows together, deep in thought. "How are we safe?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer. "How have the Daleks not come looking for us? I mean, we're in a bloody Dalek ship, aren't we?" 

Malonyo looked to his feet, suddenly crestfallen. "Rusty."

The memory of the fallen Dalek crashed back into her mind like a freight train. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. 

The Silurian took in a deep breath, meeting her gaze. "Just before he..." Malonyo cleared his throat. "...ordered his self-destruction, Rusty sent out a mayday signal from this ship, indicating that it had been destroyed. The Daleks are so arrogant that they never question anything from one of their own. To them, Daleks are perfect and fall in line perfectly."

"They're not looking for us. Nobody is, in fact. Engineers I've recruited in the past few days have been involved in repair and retrofitting projects and have managed to get this ship's perception filters activated. We're invisible. We're safe."

"We're safe." Clara repeated, the words on her tongue almost feeling strange. Like she wasn't ever supposed to know the feel of safety ever again. "We're safe," she repeated again, processing the phrase. She grinned widely. She made eye contact with the Silurian. "We did it. We did it, Malonyo." 

"And that brings me to my next point." Malonyo began, members of crew filtering into the room to form a decent crowd around her bed. "This ship needs a captain." Malonyo smiled knowingly, holding Clara's surprised gaze. The weight of the implied question permeated the air with excited tension.

"Me?" she squeaked out, pointing to herself. 

Malonyo nodded. All eyes were on her. 

Clara giggled to herself. "Doesn't 'Captain Clara' sound too much like 'Captain Crunch?'"

Martha burst into a peal of laughter, doubling over and clutching the guardrails of Clara's bed for support. Everyone else just looked confused-- missing the joke. "Yeah," she forced out between giggles, "I suppose it does." 

"Yeah, it really does. I don't know if that's a good idea." Clara snickered. "The Doctor always likes to tease me for being too bossy. If he saw me as a captain he'd defini--" 

Clara's eyes rolled to the back of her head. Blackness swallowed her vision. Malonyo darted out and caught her before she could collapse onto the medical equipment scattered upon her bed. Martha dove into action, plugging the IVs back in, turning monitors back on. 

Rapid jerking motions wracked Clara's bony frame. Foam dribbled from the corners of her mouth. "She's having a seizure!" Martha shouted. "Give me space!" she barked, ordering the crowd in the room to step out. 

 ...

She was back. Floating again. 

The weightless vacuum of space suspended her body like a leaf blown onto a still pond. Except it wasn't a pond at all. But there was liquid. A distinct scent filtered into her nostrils. 

Blood. 

A soundless shriek failed to escape her lungs. The surface tension broke. She was sinking, drowning. She thrashed against the currents pulling her under. 

There was a hand. It clasped around hers with a familiar strength. It pulled her from the depths. That warm golden light she knew so well flashed before her eyes, but refused to take root in her mind where it belonged. She could feel a tangible pain emanating from its glow in odd erratic pulses, but it withheld all it could from her. Protecting her. 

It was saying something. Whispering.

_'Clara.'_

...

"Midazolam's in!" Martha shouted, hanging an IV bag of the solution. She turned the seizing companion to her side lest she aspirate fluid into her lungs. Her patient's heart beat rapidly, threatening to go into an arrhythmia. "Stay with me, Clara!" 

As suddenly as it began, it stopped. The Impossible Girl fell limp against the sheets, the powerful sedative working its magic. Her heartbeat slowed, but only slightly. Martha took out a device from her pocket and scanned it over Clara's skull.

"I don't understand. Her brain is fine," she muttered, scrutinizing every last piece of data, not wanting to miss anything. "Clara?" she called, turning her onto her back and shaking her shoulder gently. 

Clara shot up, almost slamming into Martha's body hunched over her. Synapses were firing. Memories were returning. She had a mission, how could she forget? He was out there and he was suffering. Injured, but alive, and she'd be damned if she wouldn't try her hardest to find him. She knew that glow. She know those hands. She knew that pain. 

"Doctor!" she screamed, her eyes wild and bloodshot. "He's hurt! We have to find him!"

Malonyo gripped her by the shoulders in an effort to calm her down. No. Not now. She refused to be calm. "Clara, the Tardis blew up in the Time Vortex. He could be anywhere in time and space. Not even Missy could find him; you told me yourself."

"I don't care!" she yelled, jerking from his grasp. "Malonyo, you are now captain of this ship! On one condition." 

Her eyes bored deep into his reptilian ones. Something furious and pained flashed across her features, and the battered old Silurian found that he was scared. The human stared straight into his soul, as if creating a blood pact with him. To break it would be to pay dearly. He stood rooted to the spot, transfixed, his hands still hovering in space where they had been trying to comfort her seconds before. She took a deep breath and suddenly he was a soldier again, awaiting her orders.

"Find. The. Doctor."

Malonyo swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. 

 ...

Days passed. 

Clara had graduated from her bed against her physician's wishes. She couldn't just lie around all day. She had to find him. 

She stood vigilant, rooted to a spot behind the largest window the ship had to offer, all its scanners firing continuously. She searched, staring out into the vast expanses of space tirelessly. After her latest outburst, nobody had been brave enough to talk to her. She was grieving, and needed her space. 

Malonyo had assumed command quietly, following Clara's single order with unwavering diligence. 

Clara wracked her brain over and over, searching for the Doctor's presence. He was still there, but had cut off all broadcasting between themselves like Missy had said. She had never felt so alone, so empty, without his eccentric thoughts flying through her head. She knew his reasons, but she still felt hurt. 

And the Tardis was nowhere to be found. Not a trace. A silent tear tracked its way down her face.

She was so involved in her thoughts that she failed to notice a warm presence approaching her. 

"Hey there." Martha said quietly. 

Clara did not turn to meet her gaze. "Hello, Martha," she whispered, her thoughts clearly somewhere else. 

Martha stepped into her line of vision insistently, knowing her patient needed to talk things out with someone who understood. "Clara, tell me. What you said a few days ago...is it true? That the Tardis is dead? That the Doctor is dead?" 

Clara shifted her gaze to the older woman with tired eyes. "It's true." she breathed, almost inaudibly. "The Master, Missy, killed the Tardis. And the Doctor..." she took in a deep shuddering breath. "I killed the Doctor."

"Oh, honey, you didn't kill him." Martha soothed, fighting against the tears welling up in her eyes with this news. Malonyo did not tell her, and U.N.I.T did not know of this, so consequently, neither did she. 

"But I did!" Clara choked, tears now streaming down her face. "If I hadn't been so stupid. If he hadn't been so stupid...I was dead and gone! Why? Why would he do that!?"

"Do what, Clara?" Martha pressed gently. 

"Die! Sacrifice himself! For me! A mere human, gone in the blink of an eye anyway! There are millions of people out there, waiting on his help, and now they'll never get it! He gave me his life, but I never asked for it. Oh but I love him for it." She turned to Martha, her eyes blown wide and teary with a new realization. "Martha, I love him." 

Martha nodded with sympathy. The tears she had been holding back escaped their floodgates. She knew exactly what it was like to love and lose the Doctor-- one way or another. "But he's not dead, Clara. You said so yourself. You said he's hurt." 

"He's as good as dead!" she sobbed. "He's a Weeping Angel now, cast out and branded by his own people."

Martha widened her eyes. She knew about the Weeping Angels, but clearly did not know everything about them. The Doctor, a Weeping Angel?

"I can't even see him, Martha! I can never look at him ever again. Every time I open my eyes, all I ever see is a statue. Dead as a stone. He's alive only in my mind." 

"And now he's not even in my mind. He's hiding from Missy, but it feels like he's hiding from me too. I'll grow old searching for him here. I may never find him. He's out there, in agony. I can feel it," she cried, placing a hand against the cool glass for support. 

"But he _is_ in your mind, Clara." Martha affirmed, perceptive as always. "A bond like yours cannot so easily be broken."

Clara looked to her, almost angry that she could make such a claim without actually being involved in the situation. "What do you mean?"

"You were brain-dead, Clara. That coma you were in should have kept you asleep forever. You had zero cognitive brain function. No brain waves, no electrical activity, nothing. The epidural hematoma you suffered before Malonyo found me had put pressure on your brain long enough to damage it beyond repair. When you woke up, I thought it must have been some miracle. And apparently it was."

Clara's eyes searched those of the old physician, probing for answers, the slightest tinges of hope. "Clara," Martha continued, "He woke you from your sleep. He reestablished the bond, if only for a few seconds, but it was enough to kick your brain back into gear and begin healing."

"Upon waking, you suffered mild amnesia and some disorientation, so he made contact with you again. You had a seizure, basically a brain reboot. He spoke to you. You felt his pain. That's how you know he's hurt." 

Clara mulled this over, choking out a sob at the realization that he had not abandoned her. He was still saving her, no matter what. And now it was her turn to save him. "But he's not there now. I can't make contact with him." 

Martha took Clara's hands in her own rough ones, noticing with a physician's satisfaction that some meat was returning to Clara's bones. "Yes, but he left a spark there. Chase it. It's a breadcrumb, Clara. Follow your heart. Somewhere in your subconscious lies the answer. Ask yourself, where is the Doctor?"

Clara swallowed thickly. She squeezed the scarred hands of the old battle-worn companion, wondering if someday hers would be like that too. "Okay," she agreed. "I'll try."

Clara closed her eyes, blocking out the world. She looked deep within herself, deep into her soul until she found it. The place. Except this time she did not float aimlessly. She soared effortlessly though the nothingness, like an albatross over silent seas. She knew what she was looking for. 

A familiar smell returned. A fluidic sensation. The blood. God, there was so much of it. She had to be getting close. 

And then she saw it. A pale figure in the distance. It was curled up into a fetal position, a perfect statue. There he was. The Doctor. He had never left her after all. 

But where was he in time and space? Clara scanned the surroundings for any type of identifying landmarks. He seemed to be located in the middle of an asteroid field, disguised as just another rock in the crowd. She didn't recognize any of the constellations or star systems.

Except. 

A small smattering of green light swirled at the edges of her vision. She focused harder, finding it difficult to take her eyes off of the Doctor, even for a second. She found the source of the light and squinted. It appeared to be a cloud nebula of some type, bright emerald green with hues of yellow and blue mixed in from supergiant stars of varying colors. 

Clara gasped sharply. She had been here before. An asteroid floated out of her field of view and revealed the rest of the phenomenon. 

_'The Shamrock Nebula,'_ she realized, its four leaf-like clouds and constellations making up the 'clover' were unmistakable. The Doctor had taken her here long ago in his previous incarnation-- way back from before she became a teacher. She had desperately needed to pass her teacher certification exams, so she had asked him to wish her luck. He obliged. 

She had laughed at the time, calling him a superstitious idiot, but now she would never doubt the nebula's luck ever again. She had just found a needle in a haystack. Or rather, a specific pebble in a mountain range. 

The vision faded from view. Clara opened her eyes, feeling the swirl of the ship's conditioned air against her skin, the cool feel of Martha's palms against her own. She took in a deep shuddering breath, an anchor to tell this world apart from the airless one she had just been in. She squeezed Martha's hands. 

"I..." she struggled, choked up and smiling with overwhelming emotions of disbelief and pure unbridled hope, "I know where he is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As always, all your reviews mean so so much to me. Those are really what keep me going. Please just take a moment and tell me what you think! Love y'all! :)


	18. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search continues.

 

The next two weeks passed slowly and anxiously. The sheer inability of the Dalek ship to simply teleport like the Tardis could was maddening. 

With the engines now working at full capacity, they were traveling at speeds exponentially faster than the speed of light, but at 167 light years away, the Shamrock Nebula might as well have been in another dimension. 

Star system by star system passed them by-- once places Clara would have been itching to explore-- but now nothing more than ignored scenery. 

But they were close. Any day now. The Doctor wasn't exactly in the nebula; he was a good distance outside of it, caught in its gravitational orbit. They had been able to see the nebula for two days now, tauntingly just a bit too far away to begin their search. 

Clara stood vigilant at her post by the window, leaving only to sleep for a few restless hours or to visit the bathroom. She only ate due to the silent insistence of Dr. Jones, an action which reminded her of those of her grandmother back on Earth. She smiled at the memory, distracted momentarily. 

A loud crash reverberated through the bulkheads. Clara shrieked and was nearly knocked off her feet, having to grab at a nearby rail for stability. 

"Shields up!" Malonyo barked in the distance. Emergency lights painted the bridge scarlet. A klaxon bellowed throughout the halls.

The Asteroid Detection System. 

It was music to Clara's ears.

"Stop!" she cried, shouting over her shoulder. 

The ship came to a halt, asteroids and space debris bouncing harmlessly off its-- now shielded-- Dalekanium hull. "Full scanners," she commanded. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was it. The beginning of the search. He was out here somewhere. She was so close now.

She retreated to Malonyo's side at his position in the captain's chair. "Cruising speed, Captain. Scan for life forms," she repeated excitedly. 

"You know that I'm the captain here, right?" Malonyo smirked, teasing. 

"Do as you're told." Clara ordered, disregarding the irony of the situation. 

Malonyo shrugged, pressing the appropriate buttons. Good thing the Daleks had a knack for hunting down Timelords. The ship's sensors just might be able to seek out the lost Gallifreyan, at least that's what she hoped. A frozen Weeping Angel probably was not something that counted as a "life form," but she had to try. 

... 

The search went on for days. Every creature on the ship had its eyes trained on the world outside. The proceedings were done in silence, except for the occasional hopeful outburst that they had found him. Clara rushed to each and every one of them, looking out only to find out that the object in question was nothing more than a person-shaped chunk of asteroid. 

This cycle of hope and dismay over and over quickly began to erode Clara's patience. Her frustration mounted, the tension of it so palpable in the air that no one dared blink in their search. 

Until finally, she snapped.

"Ugh! Where is he!?" Clara shouted, kicking over a device of unknown use. "He's here, he's got to be!"

She scowled at her crew, feeling nothing but rage. She had endured so much. Kidnappings, torture, imprisonment, near conversion, betrayal, the severance of mental bonds, the deaths of those she cared about, and the ever-present fear for the worst. She was sick of it. All of it. What had she ever done to the universe to deserve this? And now there was the Doctor. Trapped in the situation he was in because of her. She had to make things right. She had to. 

And now here she was. So damn close but so far. She clenched her fists together, making eye contact with every member of her crew. "You aren't looking hard enough!" she roared, finally falling apart without the lynchpin of her sanity to keep her together. 

A pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind. She whirled around, focusing all of her fury onto the person in front of her. She wrested out of the grip. 

Martha caught her shoulders again, unshaken. "Clara! Clara, you have to listen to me." 

Clara snarled and attempted to shake her off again, but Martha refused to let go. She tightened her grasp and gave her patient a good shake, trying to knock some sense into her. "Clara, we are doing the best we can, but this is all up to you."

"Why? Are the rest of you blind!?" she growled.

"No." Martha growled back. "You've gotten us this far, you can lead us the rest of the way."

Clara raised an eyebrow, a cynical look crossing her features. "What, are you telepathic now?" she hissed.

"No," she admitted, "but I know what a bond with the Doctor looks like. Now, I'm ordering you, Clara. Meld with me. Link our minds." 

"What good would that do?" Clara huffed. "You just said you're not telepathic."

"If you're at the level that I think you are, it should be possible. Just do it." She brought Clara's hands up to her temples. "Do it." 

"Fine," she snapped, deciding to humor her. Then she could prove that this would accomplish nothing other than waste time. She found Martha's connection points and pushed her way through her mind, probably less gently than she should have. 

The link burned like fire. Clara gasped and tried to break it but found that her hands were frozen in place by some unseen force. She screamed. She had never bonded with someone who was completely non-telepathic before, and that meant that she was unprepared for the unhindered wave of foreign emotions shocking her system. _'...Martha.'_ she managed to force out. _'Martha, what is all this?'_

Images of a younger man flashed into her mind vividly. A scene began to play out. It was short and simple, like a gunshot. 

The man seemed to be standing in the middle of a battlefield. Legions of some unknown alien race surrounded him on all sides. He scowled, leaning heavily to one side with an injury, but was no less fearsome. The creatures seemed to know this, barking orders and raising their weapons to the unarmed man standing before them. 

At least they thought he was unarmed. 

Suddenly there was Martha. Here she appeared significantly younger, standing on the metal skis of a U.N.I.T helicopter. Clara could feel her anxiety as if it were her own.

The man looked like a dot in the distance with rings of enemy combatants around him. Martha saw the creatures raise their weapons. She screamed for the pilot to go faster, knowing it wouldn't matter.

The man looked up towards the sound of the chopper's blades. It was coming for him, but there would be no rescue. He knew he was too injured to survive even if he were to receive treatment right now. 

He turned his attention to the enemy. They too had peered up through the clouds at the incoming chopper and were now readying an anti-aircraft cannon. They had never been known to miss a shot. 

The chopper came closer. The creatures loaded their weapon. 

Martha could make out his face now. They made eye contact. She screamed his name, her cries drowned out by the droning of the blades. She watched him produce a device from his pocket, recognizing it instantly. She howled, begging him to not even think about it. 

The man gestured to the cannon. Martha followed his gaze. Her eyes widened. She looked to him again. A grimace of steely resolve settled over the man's features like warpaint. 

"Don't you dare!" she screamed, contradicting what she knew he must do. 

With no time left to spare, he mouthed something to her. A simple phrase she had heard from him so many times. She mouthed it back. 

And he pushed the button. The world below exploded with light and heat. Everything within the blast radius vaporized. The chopper shot up, superheated currents of air propelling it to towards the sky. Towards safety. "Mickey!" Martha cried.

The vision faded. A quiet darkness took its place, but it did nothing to soothe Clara. Tears streamed down her face. She did not know who this Mickey person was, but it was obvious what he had meant to Martha. 

 _'Sorry about that.'_ Martha's figure appeared in the darkness, a calm purple glow highlighting her features. She seemed completely unaffected by the scene that had just played out. Clara almost began to wonder if she had seen it.

Of course she had seen it. This was her mind, after all. Martha brushed it off with the apathy of someone watching a tragic movie they had seen a hundred times over. 

 _'Come on.'_ Martha called, snapping Clara from her daze. _'Follow me.'_

Clara obliged. She followed the old physician though the maze of memories, trying hard to not look too closely.

 _'What was that?'_ she asked quietly. _'Who was that man, Martha? Who is Mickey?'_  

Martha continued on, not meeting her gaze. _'I don't want to talk about it. You weren't supposed to see that.'_

_'But I saw what happened to him--'_

_'Clara,'_ Martha interrupted, _'we are here for a reason, and discussing my past is not part of it.'_

 _'Right.'_ Clara sighed, slightly hurt that Martha did not trust her enough to share her feelings, but who could blame her? _'...Just know that I'm sorry,’_ she sighed. _‘I'm sorry that happened to you, Martha. I know what it's like.'_

 _'We're here,'_ Martha changed the subject, pointing to an area of her mind. 

There, a familiar amber glow resided. The Doctor. Clara gasped, reaching out towards the light. Martha caught her hand. 

_'This bond is non-communicative.'_

_'But you do have a bond with the Doctor. How?'_ Clara asked, awestruck. 

 _'I was a companion of the Doctor's, remember? He gives a little piece of himself to each and every one of us. A small bond, which he always maintains to let us know that he still remembers and cares about us.'_ Martha turned to Clara. _'But there's something different about you, Clara. You can talk to him directly. You can hold telepathic conversations.'_

 _'What are you saying?'_ Clara asked, starting to feel a bit apprehensive about where this conversation was headed. 

_'I scanned you. I didn't believe it at first, but science doesn't lie. Your DNA is not 100% human anymore, Clara. You're a hybrid.’_

_'I know this.'_ Clara affirmed, remembering what Missy had told her long ago. _‘Our DNA mixed when he saved my life.'_

 _'But you don't understand, Clara. You are not just half-Timelord. You're half-Doctor. You two are connected. His mind is your mind. You aren't just bonded with a telepathic link, you partially share the same brain. He may have cut you off from the link, but he can't cut you off from your own brain. He knows this.'_

Martha clasped Clara's hands once again. _'You just need to find the block. Combine your bond with the one I share with him. It might amplify the signal.'_

Clara nodded soundlessly, her brain trying fervently to keep up with what Martha was saying. 

She reached back into her own mind, finding the Doctor's dormant glow and bringing it out for Martha to see. She held it gingerly. A supernova in the palm of her hand. 

Martha did the same, holding her own little ball of golden energy. She made eye contact with Clara and nodded. They both knew what to do. 

The two bonds touched. The world burst into light. The mind link fell away. The cool air of the ship caressed their skin once again. The sight of the crew gathered around them returned into view. 

Martha shared a look with Clara. The two darted to the window. It was different than before.

"There he is." Clara breathed, overwhelmed. 

Outside a bright yellow column of light shone like a beacon, visible only to herself and Martha. Clara shouted orders to turn the ship around. Like the Star of Bethlehem, it guided them. It shone at its origin within a small cluster of asteroids. The rocks in question drifted away. 

And there he was. Now for all to see. 

Martha gasped, seeing him in his new form for the first time, frozen in stone. She hadn't wanted to believe it. She turned, a question on her lips. 

But Clara was gone.

The old physician wondered briefly where she had disappeared to. She had her answer within moments. 

...

Tethered to the ship, Clara Oswald swam through the darkness of space. Her bright orange and yellow space suit contrasted her surroundings like a flame in a cave. She fumbled with the controls, found the button she was looking for, and shot off into the distance, towards the beacon. Towards the Doctor.

She got closer and closer. His features came into view. Those beautiful wings, that crazy hair, those powerful eyebrows. His new coat was all torn and he appeared to be covered in soot, but it was him. Finally. Finally, for the first time in months, she could see him again. 

She came within a few meters of his body when she was stopped by an invisible barrier.  It rippled at her touch like water. She pushed on it, but it would not yield. She was about to scream in frustration when suddenly it seemed to recognize her and let her in. She fell with a grunt. Gravity. There was gravity in here. 

She glimpsed at the suit's readout. There was oxygen too. The Tardis life support shield, she realized. It was still here. 

She smiled, taking sight of the Doctor’s form within the bubble. She removed her helmet and took off in a sprint upon the invisible ground, her cumbersome suit proving to be no match against her will. She would not be slowed. "Doctor!" she called desperately. "Doctor, it's me! Clara!" 

She reached his statue. She halted in her tracks, panting, taking in the sight of him up close. A stray giggle escaped from her lips before it was accompanied by several more. Her face lit up with a wide grin and she pounced, catching him in a fierce embrace—wanting to never let go again. She clutched the rough stone with all her might and squeezed her eyes shut. Back on the ship, Martha instructed everybody else to do the same.

The stone melted away. Soft skin and feathers materialized into reality. The Doctor gasped, sucking in a large gulp of air with lungs that had not worked in ages. After a brief struggle, he opened his eyes, squinting to adjust to the light. His senses returned. A sound drifted into his ears. Sobbing. Laughing.

He looked down, his nerves finally deciding to wake up. A familiar weight rested on his middle. He forced his arms to move, brushing his hands across the course fabric of a spacesuit. It felt real. "Clara?" he asked tentatively, fearing that she may just be yet another mirage. Her embrace tightened at his call. 

"Doctor. My Doctor," she cried, tears soaking into his skin. She balled her fists in the ripped fabric of his lapels. She clung to them like her life depended on it. God knew her soul did. "I'm here now, Doctor. I'm here."

A flash of light shocked them both like a stroke of lightning, sending them reeling. A familiar presence settled into their minds. The link. Reestablished as if it had never left. The block dissolved and the new link blazed though their souls like wildfire, igniting every nerve it touched. The Doctor broke from his trance. This was no mirage.

"Clara," he whispered. The name fell from his lips like a forgotten spell. No. Not forgotten. Never. He brought up a hand, studying her face, feeling her tears on his fingertips. It was true. It was her. 

"My Clara!" He brought his arms around and caught her in a crushing embrace. Tears poured from his eyes, unashamed. He tangled his fingers in her silky hair, bringing her close and planting several kisses onto her little head. His pudding brain. His Impossible Girl. His Clara. 

"Oh Doctor," she choked out. Her whole body trembled with sobs, the Doctor's arms the only thing holding her together. All the pain, all the loss she had experienced over the past several months dried up like a puddle in sunlight. She sniffled loudly, nuzzling into his warmth. "I've found you," she whispered. "I've found you." 

"It's you,” he breathed, taking a good long look at her face. It was maybe a little more hollow than the last time he had seen it, but those dimples still framed her smile and her nose still curled upward slightly like the beautiful nymph she always was. “It's really you," he breathed. Joy stirred his two old hearts to beat excitedly, causing his whole body to vibrate. 

Those vibrations. Clara gripped at him tighter, placing a hand over his hearts. God, she had missed them so much. 

He traced his fingers over the sunken flesh of her once rounded cheeks and a fresh burst of unmanly tears escaped from the Doctor’s eyes. "I'm so sorry, Clara, I'm so sorry," he wailed. "It's my job to keep you safe. And I couldn't save you. I couldn't get you out of there."

"I've been floating in this damned place for so long, Clara. One-thousand, two-hundred fourteen years, seven months, thirteen days, fifteen hours, and three minutes. I can feel it all, Clara. Every second. Seconds of eternity."

"Well, I’m here now." Clara reassured, guiding him away from this negative train of thought with her forgiveness. "And I can take care of myself, thank you very much," she giggled. 

She ran her fingers through his hair. It was soft and bouncy, just as she remembered it. She traced her hand across his face, reading its expression like Braille. She cupped his jaw. The Doctor already knew what she wanted. "Come here, you stupid old man," she chuckled with a warmth she hadn't felt in ages. "We’ve waited long enough." 

Their lips met. Thousands of emotions ran rampant through their shared minds. Their souls danced around each other with reckless abandon, neatly slotting back into the places where they belonged. Light and fire forced their bodies to the brink, hearts beating wild, adrenaline surging. 

Eventually, the need for air became imperative, so hesitantly they broke the kiss. The Doctor rested his forehead against hers, their noses touching. God, if only he could look into those eyes again. He closed his own, mirroring her, melting into their embrace, letting the sounds of her quiet breathing soothe him. They stayed that way for a while.

Clara shifted slightly, reaching out and touching the edges of the atmospheric force-field. "Doctor..." she trailed off, biting back a fresh wave of tears. She really didn't want to ruin this moment, but her curiosity got the best of her. "...Is the Tardis really dead?" 

He sighed, the loss still fresh in his mind. "Except for this," he produced a small green crystal from his pocket, "she's gone. Missy killed her. The Tardis’s last act was to drop me off here, a place she knew you'd remember. Her timing may have been a tiny bit off, though." He clutched the crystal tighter, cradling it in the safety of his palm. All those years of traveling, all those years of the Old Girl taking care of him and now this was all that was left.

She nodded, placing her hands over his and giving them a light squeeze. But something was off. His hands felt oddly warm. Too warm, making hers feel this way too. "Doctor..." Clara gasped, worry lacing her voice. 

Taking care to not look at him, she turned away and examined her palms. 

Scarlet. They shone with the color. A drop of the liquid fell to her knees, causing her to realize her entire suit was now an entire shade darker. The memory of all her comatose visions came crashing back down upon her. Except this time it was not a vision at all. This was real.

"Doctor!" 

She closed her eyes and turned back to him. "Doctor, you're covered in blood!" 

As if suddenly realizing this fact, the Doctor's pain-receptive nerves came back to life. His body crumpled in on itself. The adrenaline in his system began to ebb away, revealing the crippling pain it was hiding. 

"Doctor!" Clara tried to gently place her arms around him to comfort him only for him to shout in anguish. Agony tore through his bones. Blood started to bubble up his throat, causing him to choke on the liquid. Centuries-old injuries asserted their presence. They had been frozen in time along with him for all the years he was a statue, but now that he was awake he was in grave danger. He knew this. He could feel his strength waning. Fast. 

"Clara." he rasped out, his voice audibly weaker than before. "Clara, I did not cut off our link to hide from Missy.  I’m not afraid of Missy. I was hibernating, Clara. Mentally and physically. I had no choice. These injuries—“

A sharp stab of pain cut him off. He clutched at his ribs, remembering how he had been slammed into the Tardis railing during Missy's assault. He groaned lowly, feeling the broken bones now puncturing into his pleural space after Clara's embrace. It wasn't her fault. She didn't know. He didn't tell her. The now collapsed lung there filled his chest cavity with air at his every breath, dangerously compressing his hearts. He switched to his respiratory bypass system to slow its buildup. “Clara, I need to get to your ship,” he gasped out, squeezing his eyes shut tight with searing waves of pain and pressure. “I need to go into a healing coma."

He clung desperately to her form like a drowning man to driftwood. His whole body shook with agony. "If I die like this, I'll be stuck as a statue forever. A gravestone. Mentally dead. Clara--" 

She placed a finger over his lips. "Don't talk." She found the source of the bleeding at his side and removed his jacket. She tied it off firmly, earning her a yelp of pain and a long string of colorful profanity. A sinking pit of dread gripped at her insides, but she forced herself to be strong. She could feel a muted version of his pain leaking over into her mind against his best efforts. 

One of his wings appeared to be broken, and upon close examination, she noticed that something was sticking up from one of the Doctor's shins. The fabric of his trousers clung stickily to his skin and it was only then she realized that the sharp protrusion were the splintered remains of his tibia. She choked back tears, hating how the universe always seemed to be against them. 

The Doctor whimpered, his eyes starry with shock. She grabbed his face in her hands. "Doctor! Doctor, I need you to focus. Freeze yourself. Turn into an Angel." She stroked his face, wiping the drying tears from his cheeks while her own now flowed. She could tell he didn’t want to. He didn't want to leave her again. He wanted to believe he could take the pain. Clara clasped his hand in hers tightly. "Freeze. Do it for me. It'll buy us some time." 

He nodded, knowing better than to argue. "Okay, boss," he groaned, his voice now barely louder than a whisper.

Clara replaced her helmet, screwing it on tight. She gripped the Doctor from under his arms. She looked to him but he had already transformed into stone. His body felt a thousand times heavier, and she cursed the artificial gravity of the bubble. She used her other hand to grip tight to her tether line. 

"Malonyo!" she barked into the receiver built into the helmet. "I’ve got him! Bring us in! Hurry! And tell Martha to be ready! He needs medical attention!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally! Some Whouffaldi! But poor Doctor. He and Clara can never catch a break, can they? The next chapter is going to have some medical angst and slight amounts of gore, but also lots of fluffy whump. I'm now in college, studying to become an ER Physician someday, so sorry y'all but medical whump and angst are kind of my thing. Things will calm down soon though, I promise.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I have no idea when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully it'll be soon. Please let me know what you think in the comments below! :D


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